


After the Storm

by TheRiverScribe



Series: By the Grace of God [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Season/Series 12, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angel Healing, Angel Sam Winchester, Angel Wings, Cage Trauma, De-Aged Sam Winchester, Enochian, Family as Flock, Fledglings, Flock as Family, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Healing, Hell Trauma, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sam Winchester gets a damn dog, Team as Family, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-09-18 11:32:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 69,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9383168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRiverScribe/pseuds/TheRiverScribe
Summary: After being rescued from the British Men of Letters, Sam and his family finally return to the bunker.But healing his body will be the easiest part of what lies ahead.(Grab the fluff-blankets...it's gonna be a comfort-fest)





	1. Night Has Always Pushed Up Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nathyfaith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nathyfaith/gifts), [ScrollingKingfisher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScrollingKingfisher/gifts).



> Shout-out to all the people who have commented--y'all FEED my soul!  
> All my love and gratitude to those who have let me bounce ideas off them.  
> @ScrollingKingfisher AND @nathyfaith -- you two have saved my sanity <3

_But there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears._  
_And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears._  
_Get over your hill and see what you find there,_  
_With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair._  
-From _After the Storm_ by Mumford and Sons

* * *

 

It was almost eleven o'clock in the morning when the Impala and Jeep pulled in front of the bunker. Sam hadn't moved from his place against Gabriel once the archangel began to narrate his adventures in space. Listening to the dramatic retelling, he found himself questioning just how many details were getting elaborated. But Castiel always chimed in or nodded eagerly along, and Sam would once again be swept up in the fantastic tale.

Once their intergalactic travels were thoroughly exhausted as a topic, Gabriel moved on to other similarly outlandish stories that involved his time among the pagan gods. The trip home was filled with laughs and gasps from the exhausted group. Sam almost hoped it would never end—that he could just rest there in the safety of the Impala's backseat, surrounded by voices he knew and loved, and use Gabriel as a personal heat rock forever. The constant buzzing along his skin from the low-level grace work certainly didn't hurt.

But he knew it couldn't last. Now that his grace wasn't cooking his insides, Sam's self-awareness crept in. He was increasingly conscious of the fact that lounging against another person was not something he would have done three weeks ago. And yet he'd spent the past four hours being held in turn by Castiel, Dean, and Gabriel. Not that it wasn't comfortable, but it was weird. How long was the archangel planning to baby him? The thought only grew as he realized how disgusting he smelled and felt and looked—and he discovered them in that order.

The engine cut off, and the silence disturbed. “Come on, bud. Let's get you inside,” Gabriel said as they climbed out of the car. Sam heard car doors opening and footsteps following them, but Gabriel didn't slow down until they were all the way down the stairs. Lifting his head from the warm chest, he saw maps and books and papers and spell items strewn across the war table and floor.

Sam's jaw dropped at the mess. Was that a pile of _hair_?

“Whoa,” Gabriel breathed, then turned to the others filing in behind them, “What were you doing, trying to _summon_ Sam? Or...no, location spell. But very non-traditional.” His eyes cataloged the leftover ingredients.

“It's a variation of our own special tracking spell. We hunt a lot of soul-selling witches who know how to guard against the predictable magics,” the unknown woman said as she glided down the stairs.

“We had to get creative when we found out there was grace involved, but it worked. If not, we had a backup plan ready to go,” the man following her added.

“Three backup plans,” the woman corrected.

“Three backup plans and an entire library worth of potential knowledge to reform into other backup plans,” the man agreed.

“Impressive,” Gabriel whistled, “You'll have to share some of those with me later on. For now, I'm going to see about getting this one cleaned up.” Sam felt himself be bounced slightly and his glare only got him a mild chuckle.

“You guys are welcome to stay,” Dean said as he threw his bag onto a chair, “We have lots of spare rooms and enough food to last us all for weeks.”

Mary stepped forward, “I'll show them around. You guys take care of Sammy.” She smiled at him and whispered, “I love you,” before leading the others toward the kitchen. Sam could only stare after her, wanting her to stay.

Dean glanced back up at the bunker entrance. “Gabe, where's your brother?” Mention of the other archangel had Sam tensing, but not with the terror Raphael's presence had first brought that morning. He just wanted to pretend he'd woken from a nightmare and that things would return to normal by lunch. Raphael was a reminder that so much had changed in twenty-four hours.

“He's waiting outside. I asked him to give us all a chance to settle first. Until then, he can stand guard,” Gabriel answered as they walked to Sam's room.

Everything was exactly how they'd left it the morning before—blankets strewn everywhere, sheets hanging off the bed, pillows in the floor. Sam shivered, remembering the dreams that seemed so long ago. Had that really been the last time he'd slept?

“What would you like to wear today, Sam?” Castiel asked, and a tiny thrill ran through Sam's grace. The angel had started repeating the question every morning since their brothers fought over who got to dress him. Usually, they would make a little show of picking combinations they knew neither older sibling would appreciate. Dean and Gabriel liked to send them mock glares which led to rowdy breakfasts. Until yesterday.

Sam blinked and tried to remember what was in the drawers. Vague images of color and cloth passed through his mind, but nothing registered. He leaned back from Gabriel to see what clothes he even had on. It was the shirt Shepard had given him that morning—it smelled like the clinic and he realized it probably belonged to the British torturer. That thought made Sam's stomach lurch up into his throat and he swallowed through the rising nausea.

' _Do monsters get to wear pants?'_   Sam shook his head hard, hoping to silence Shepard's voice in his head.

“You do not wish to wear anything?” Castiel tried to clarify, misreading the gesture.

There was a spark of panic at the idea of not getting to wear clothes again, but then Sam took in the earnest bewilderment on the seraph's face and he caught himself. No one was going to deny him clothes here. In fact, Castiel seemed to be headed toward accepting Sam's choice even if he clearly didn't understand it. The fear transformed into a half-laugh. He startled himself with the sound and saw Dean glancing between him and Castiel.

With a small knowing smile, Dean knelt down and opened the drawers. As he pulled out a handful of shirts, Castiel frowned, “Dean...”

“Cas, I know, and I'm with you. But Sam's not quite up to answering how you want him to,” Dean explained. He stood and held the shirts up for inspection. Sam stared at them without moving. “Sam, pick a shirt,” his brother said, encouraging but firm.

The color green stood out—same as the forest and Dean's eyes. He pointed to it and his brother nodded. The shirt was slung over Dean's shoulder and the rest of his armful got dumped back in the drawer. Sam tried not to wince at the disorder. They repeated the process to pick a pair of thick, flannel pants, and Dean grabbed underwear and socks without making him choose.

“Bath or shower, Sammy?” Dean asked as they made their way toward the bathroom.

“Bath, definitely,” Gabriel answered instead, “His foot isn't completely healed. It will probably be tonight before he can stand without it hurting, but right now it's just newly-grown nerves and a couple layers of skin. I can seal it in grace to keep the water from touching it, but no weight until I give the go-ahead, okay?”

The last part was aimed directly to Sam, but his mind was stuck on the 'shower or bath' question, and all he could think about was nearly drowning under the pressurized spray of ice water. Cold crept into his chest and Sam pressed a little closer to Gabriel without answering. He saw the others share a look, but no one commented.

Castiel parted ways with them at the bathroom, citing limited space and went to check on the others. For a second, Gabriel just stood there holding him while Dean started the water in the claw-foot bathtub some poor soul had lugged underground decades ago. The scent of lavender and mint filled the billowing steam.

Under the sound of running water, the archangel whispered, “Okay, confession time—I _really_ don't want to let you go right now and I doubt your grace is gonna be happy, but I need to put you down so we can get you cleaned up. Think we can do it?”

Sam couldn't keep his gaze away from the faucet. Each time, he became surrounded by the rushing water echoing off tiled walls. It was too intense a sound to safely ignore. He nodded, answering Gabriel. The archangel loved to play up the mother hen role, but he'd kept it going for hours.

Sam knew it was time to pull it back together and move on. Shit happened to them all the time, and this would have been treated like any other hunt if he'd been adult-sized. Dean may have fussed a little to work off the worried nerves from Sam going missing, but he definitely wouldn't be caught dead drawing a bubble bath for his brother.

Reluctantly, Sam allowed himself to be sat next to the sink and wondered when Dean was going to start making fun of his newfound clinginess. Gabriel didn't completely let go, maintaining contact with both hands. Sam's grace _wasn't_ happy about the separation and rolled in frustration. Gabriel breathed out slowly like he was exhaling a drag from a cigarette and the room's temperature warmed considerably.

“Shit, Gabe, are you trying to smother me?” Dean asked, already drenched in sweat.

“Sorry, Deano. But Sam's grace is two seconds away from trying to cook him again because I put him down and I don't think any of us are quite ready for communal bathtime,” Gabriel winked at Sam as Dean sputtered outrage about bad mental pictures. The water shut off and it felt like a large pressure suddenly lifted in the silence. “Alright, Sam, let's get this _thing_ off you.”

Careful hands peeled the soiled shirt off one limb at a time and Sam's throat burned with unspoken gratitude at not being made to lift his arms. He heard simultaneous gasps when the hem cleared his head and he saw matching expressions of horror and badly concealed rage. Gabriel's eyes stared at a place behind Sam, and it took him a second to realize he was sitting in front of a mirror.

Sam's arms crossed over his bruised chest, but Dean stepped forward and coaxed them back down. Fingers trailed lightly down his side. “Damn, kid.”

 _Not a kid,_ Sam frowned and tried to look over his shoulder, but twisting made his skin feel tight.

“What...How...” Gabriel kept starting but breaking off, too upset, “What did they do?”

Sam shrugged. _They_ had done a lot of things. He couldn't tell if Gabriel was referring to a specific injury or the overall image he presented. Dean's touch ghosted across his lower back and Sam leaned away with a grunt of pain.

“Raphael said they used some stick on you—from Olive's sisters' tree, or something,” Dean said, crouching down to be eye-level with Sam. They searched each others' faces. Sam found the familiar regret and anger that spawned whenever Dean felt he'd failed to protect his brother. There was no telling what Dean saw.

“The Sisters Olive trees?” Gabriel shook his head and threw the shirt into the trashcan, “That's how they bruised your grace?”

Sam shrugged again, and felt his face and neck burn in embarrassment. God, having Gabriel alongside Dean in a post-danger protective frenzy seemed to somehow equal four of his brother. Dean took the archangel's similar attitude as permission to go further into overdrive. Sam wasn't used to such an intense reaction from others over some bruises. Granted, the burn had been horrible, but it was practically healed. Or he at least couldn't feel it anymore.

“How do you want to do the pants, dude?” Dean asked, swallowing down probably a dozen other things he'd rather say.

Sam pointed to the floor next to the bathtub. He'd handle his own pants, thank you. He just needed to lean against something.

“No standing on that foot, Sam,” Gabriel reminded him. Sam clenched his jaw and jabbed his finger at his own bruised chest, then back toward the floor. If he walked all the way from the cage to the driveway at the animal clinic, then he could certainly stand on one foot to take off some pants. Gabriel just raised his eyebrows.

“Okay, you two,” Dean picked Sam off the counter and sat with him on the toilet lid, “Sam, can you stand without putting weight on that foot?” Sam nodded, desperate to not have others stripping him. “Then let me help you balance and you do your thing.”

Sam glanced at Gabriel, worried he'd anger the archangel by going against the clear order. But he saw the whiskey-brown eyes soften. “Yeah, we won't let you fall. Just be careful.” Gabriel stepped closer.

“Check the water temp real quick—is it too hot?” Dean leaned Sam forward so he could dip his hand through the bubbly surface. It took every ounce of strength to not dive right in, clothing be damned. It wasn't quite the 'just shy of scalding' that Sam preferred, but it was still amazing. He reached a little further to immerse his forearm. “Whoa there!,” Dean laughed and pulled him upright again, “Not headfirst and not wearing these filthy clothes.”

Slowly, he helped Sam slide off his lap. When his left foot touched the tile, Sam thought his leg would give out but Dean's hands held him until the muscles stopped shaking. He made quick work of the pants, trying to remember that nudity wasn't anything new to either his brother or the ex-pagan god.

Gabriel helped keep the fabric from catching on the still-healing skin, and there was a tingling that encompassed the entire right foot. “There, that should keep the water from interfering with my work. I've set the grace to continue the accelerated healing. It may feel like pins and needles soon as the nerves reconnect, but nothing should hurt. If it does, you tell me immediately. Agreed?”

Sam nodded—he definitely didn't want that pain returning. As soon as the pants cleared his toes, Dean lifted him up, “Alright, dude, into the water and under the bubbles so no one loses their modesty.”

Finally, he sank into the hot water and almost cried at how good it felt. There was no stopping the groan when he curled forward and pushed his arms under the bubbles. The skin twinged for less then a second before heat saturated all his limbs. Water sloshed against his back and he hissed as it burned against the welts. He straightened up to keep as many of them out of the bath as possible.

“Careful,” Gabriel said unnecessarily.

Sam huffed. Someone handed him a washcloth and he gingerly wiped away the hours of sweat and dirt and blood that had caked to his skin. He resisted the urge to scrub until the skin peeled away, knowing his hypersensitive sentinels would never allow it.

Gabriel leaned against the wall with a contemplative look, “It might be easier to wait and wash your hair after the bath to keep your back dry. You could just lean over the tub while we use the shower head...No!”

Sam didn't remember moving. One second he was calmly sitting, and the next, he was half-way over the porcelain edge, aiming to wedge himself between the massive beast and the wall. Two arms suddenly appeared around his waist and chest from _above_ , suspending him above the water, and Sam fought to get free. A drowsy peace settled like a heavy blanket around him and he felt himself go boneless. He blinked down at the bubbles—they were all glowing gold.

“What the...that was...” Dean stammered, near hysterics, “Both of you get off the damned tub before my chest explodes!” Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw Gabriel's sneakers perched solidly on either side of the tub.

“Calm down, Deano, and unfold the towel. Bathtime's over,” Gabriel said softly as he stepped over and down.

Sam closed his eyes against the disorienting view. The water dripping off his skin felt like ice and the voices merged with a distant torrential roar. He wanted to ask what had happened and why breathing was so difficult. All that came out was a choked, “ **Please!** ” A strange resonance dulled the cold and kept his body mostly relaxed.

“ **You are safe, Samuel. Just breathe** ,” Gabriel's voice stayed low and held a hint of power. “Dean, towel. Here we go, Sam.”

Hands transferred him face-down onto another set of arms draped in soft cloth. The fabric wrapped around his legs and sides, crisscrossing over his lower back. When they shifted him again, Sam found himself upright with his head resting on a shoulder. “ **Please, no,** ” he whispered under the growing sound of rushing water.

“ **Hush, little guy. It is all over. You are home.** ” A hand moved to the back of Sam's head. His scalp felt crusty with all the filth stuck in the tangled strands. Fingers ran through the curls. A tingling flowed over his head and the grime disintegrated, leaving a stronger scent of lavender and mint behind. Sam sighed into the sensation and felt the tangles fall away from the fingers. “ **There, that is a lot better, right?** ” Gabriel whispered.

“ **Please? Please no?** ” Sam repeated the words, but they had become meaningless sounds that felt important.

“ **What do you not want, hmm**?” Gabriel asked, swaying back and forth in a way that felt completely foreign to Sam.

The rushing sound had stopped. Sam opened his eyes expecting a cement floor and metal bars and was surprised to see the walls of the bunker bathroom. A jolt of memories crashed him back to the present. He sucked in a breath, “ **Gabriel?** ”

The archangel looked down, his vessel's face blurry from the swirls of golden grace but the smile came through clear. “Sam-shine! Are you with us now?”

Nodding, Sam swallowed and tried to push down his humiliation so he could speak. It was still hard to get enough air. “ **Sorry. I not mean to...** ”

“Hey, hey! None of that,” Gabriel shushed him, “You scared me—I didn't know you could move that fast.”

Sam's face burned. He hid it against the towel which only served to remind him that he was naked. “ **Clothes?** ” his voice cracked.

“Dean's got them. You want to put those pants on?”

“ **Yes, please,** ” he mumbled into the towel.

Gabriel and Dean debated briefly on the best way to get him dressed. In the end, the archangel simply held Sam out from him while Dean shimmied the clothes up his legs under the towel. “How about we leave the shirt off for now?” Gabriel asked as Dean wrestled a sock onto the non-burned foot. “I don't think anything will feel very good against those shoulders until we've had the chance to work on them some.”

Sam curled his toes inside the thick material. “Okay,” he said, too happy with pants and a single sock to worry about the shirt. Besides, he was warm and his back _did_ hurt. Now that he knew where he was, his anxiety was draining away like the bathwater. He laid his head on Gabriel's shoulder again, too exhausted to keep upright.

They left the bathroom and made their way through the halls. “We're going to the bedroom. Your mom and Cassie are already there waiting for us.” Hearing that Mary and Castiel were nearby, soon to be seen, was oddly reassuring.

“Why?” Dean's confused voice broke in as they started walking again.

“Because that's what members of a flock _do_.” Gabriel answered in his patent 'you are so stupid, it's cute' tone before explaining further, “If one goes into distress, the rest rally around them. Isn't it the same for human families?”

Dean didn't answer right away, and Sam could almost hear the internal struggle happening in his brother's brain. It was the same one taking place in his own. He and Dean had no idea what happened in normal families. “I guess,” Dean said, gruffly, “It's really only ever been just me and Sammy. 'Distress' is part of our everyday life. Does stitching each other up and sharing a beer count as rallying?”

“Winchesters,” Gabriel swore, “Of course it counts! Treating wounds and staying close to reassure each other is what I'm talking about. It's why the others are waiting for us.”

They entered a room much brighter than the halls, and Sam had to shut his eyes against it. He heard the rustling of feet and clothing.

“Is he alright?” Castiel asked.

“What happened?” Mary said at the same time.

“Everything's fine,” Gabriel reassured them as he sat down, “We had to cut the bath a bit short, that's all.” Sam could only imagine the faces the archangel was making to try and silently convey the disaster that had just occurred. The seat bounced as someone sat next to them.

Sam turned his head and saw his brother. It took him a second to realize they were on the small sofa in the communal bedroom. He pushed back from Gabriel's chest to look at the archangel. “ **Here?** ” He thought they were returning to his own bedroom.

“ **Here,** ” Gabriel said firmly. The archangel rarely insisted on things, but when he did there was no use debating with him. Sam knew it was better to carefully plan a counterargument and readdress the issue when things were less intense. A glance around the room showed the others hovering nervously and he sighed—it didn't look like 'less intense' was going to happen very soon.

* * *

Castiel had left the bathroom earlier because he knew Sam was a private person. To have so many adults inhabiting the small room while trying to bathe would be overwhelming, and potentially embarrassing when his friend had the chance to reflect later. So, as much as it pained him to let Sam out of his sight, Castiel went to check on the other member of their little flock.

They had gathered in the kitchen. Max stood mixing coffee with various alcohols while the three women sat in a huddle at the table. Jody's arm was draped across Mary's shoulders and Alicia held the mother's hand as they spoke in hushed tones. He sat with them and accepted a drink, surprised to be so casually included. Max had been confident that Castiel would take his coffee “just like mamma and me,” and he was correct. The sweet and creamy tones added a different texture and experience than regular cream and sugar.

He had barely taken his second sip when Gabriel's voice brushed his mind. _Can you get Mary and meet us in that bedroom you put together?_ He sounded strained.

 _What is wrong?_ Castiel asked, and he half-noticed the humans falling silent when he set the mug down harder than intended.

_He got spooked in the bath. It may have been something I said about washing his hair. I don't know, but I've got him wrapped in enough grace to stop a stampede and he's still talking._

_And Sam is allowing this?_ Castiel frowned as he stood up, motioning for Mary to join him. He muttered a vague excuse about being summoned by his brother, and they quickly made their way to the large bedroom.

 _Sam just tried to throw himself out of a bathtub and into a wall._ Power echoed over their connection and there were ripples moving through the air of the bunker from the archangel's direction. _I didn't bind him in it, if that's what you're thinking. But if he slammed those wings into tile, it could cause enough pain for another explosion like when they burned his foot. And Dean was less than two feet away._

Castiel felt sick—he was completely out of his league in terms of Sam's current state. As a seraph soldier, he had limited understanding of what complications they were facing. The fact that Dean could potentially have been killed in the midst of a pain-induced panic attack just moments ago was beyond unsettling.

In the bedroom, Mary cornered him for answers. “Castiel, what is going on? Is Sam alright?”

“I do not know exactly. Gabriel just said Sam was upset by something during his bath and asked that we meet him here.” He flipped on the lights and warmed the air with his grace.

Glancing at the room, he quickly decided it needed some adjustments. He left the two twin beds in either corner and banished the empty dressers. The third twin bed he pulled to the center and expanded it into a king. Turning, he added two more chairs across from the sofa to make a larger seating area. It seemed like the right thing to do—Gabriel would want more lounging options while healing Sam.

Mary gasped beside him. He looked at her, worried he'd done something wrong. She was staring at him in awe. “I don't think I'm ever going to get used to seeing you do things like that.” Castiel just smiled and looked away. He still wasn't used to reverence from a Winchester.

It took less than a few minutes, and they'd just finished shaking a quilt out over the larger bed when the others walked in. The sight of the boy stunned him into dropping the quilt and rushing over. No longer hidden in fabric, the skin on Sam's back was a mass of bruises overlaid by several thin red welts. And in the very center, along one particularly vicious looking stripe, sat two pockets of grace.

They could hardly be called wings—not these pitiful tendrils of light that seemed to be seeping from a wound. He wondered if Raphael had the ability to reverse the progress, or if the Healer would have to coax them into fully manifesting. Either prospect sounded awful, but leaving the raw grace exposed would be much worse.

A cloud of gold surrounded Gabriel and Sam, and Castiel felt the calming effects as he drew closer. He saw Dean sit beside their brothers. The hunter was clutching the shirt Sam had picked out in hands that occasionally trembled. It made Castiel wonder what exactly had happened.

“So, what's everyone else doing? Is it nap time or did they find the leftovers too enticing?”

“Max is making his coffees. We didn't make it further than the kitchen,” Mary answered, sitting in one of the new chairs.

“Max is making coffee?” Dean perked up at the news.

“Yup,” Mary smiled, “Castiel liked it too.”

“You should, Cas. He's good at it. What did he put in yours?”

Castiel cleared his throat, “A cream from Ireland. It was very good.”

“You mean to tell me you found two powerful, intelligent, badass witch hunter twins while trapped in the bunker? Found them, brought them here, and they're making alcoholic coffees? I'm so proud of you guys!” Gabriel laughed.

Sam stirred in the archangel's arms and clumsily tried to move to the seat between them and Dean. Gabriel steadied him and only Castiel could see the frantic undercurrent hidden below his brother's calm exterior. It was easy to see where the stories came from concerning Gabriel's protective nature and affection for fledglings.

 _He will not let you carry him forever, brother,_ Castiel teased silently.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow and started carding his fingers through Sam's hair to maintain contact, _You wanna bet?_ Out loud, he said, “Cassie, for the love of Dad, sit down!”

Castiel lowered himself into a chair and saw Sam give him a shy smile. He returned it, “How are you feeling, Sam?”

The boy's smile became more forced and he shrugged, grimacing as the gesture pulled on his back. “Better,” he answered simply.

Gabriel met his gaze, _He's not lying—he is doing much better than before. But he is not 'better.'_

Castiel nodded, acknowledging them both, “Are you hungry? Or would you like to sleep?”

Sam shook his head, not saying which one he was rejecting.

“How about we go see what's going on in the kitchen? You could use a little something in your stomach, even if it's just a glass of milk,” Gabriel pushed gently. The boy shrugged again.

“You up to seeing Jody?” Dean asked. Castiel saw the corner's of Sam's mouth curl up at mention of the sheriff. Dean read it as an answer, “Awesome! Come on, Gabe. You deserve one of Max's coffees.”

* * *

“You sure got some interesting friends, Jody,” Alicia said.

Jody chuckled, “You two have no idea.”

Max joined his sister at the table, “So Mister Blue Eyes is Castiel, right? And he's the one who's wearing your girl's daddy?”

“Yep,” Jody answered, draining her coffee. Max reached behind him and brought both the whiskey and Irish cream bottles around to the table. Jody tapped the whiskey and he poured her a generous portion. “Although, his soul is in Heaven. The way I understand it, God recreated Jimmy's vessel for Castiel after Raphael killed him. And again when Lucifer killed him. And a few more times, maybe? I'm a little hazy on the resurrection count between all of them.”

“And the little boy? That's really Sam Winchester?” Alicia asked.

Jody laughed, “I guess so! Never thought the words 'little boy' would ever be used to identify him. I've only known Sam as the gentle giant.”

“Hmm, 'gentle giant' is not how he's usually described in hunting circles,” Alicia mused without refuting the claim.

“That's because hunter's talk about the hunt. You should talk to survivors he's helped in the aftermath,” Jody drained half the liquor from her mug.

“Well, he certainly isn't towering over anyone now,” Max snorted.

“And the gold one is Gabriel?” Alicia refilled their whiskeys.

“Gold one?” Jody frowned, unsure why she used that phrase to describe the shorter man.

“Oh, he _glows,_ ” Max agreed.

“Totally different from Castiel,” Alicia added.

“Well, I met Gabriel the same time you did,” Jody shrugged, “But I didn't see any glow.”

Max shivered, “He is a whirlwind of energy.”

Alicia nodded, “And he smells like a candy store.”

“A glowing whirlwind of energy that smells like a candy store? Sounds like my kinda person!” Gabriel's voice bounced in the room as he entered with the rest of the bunker's inhabitants right behind him. Jody heard the twins both inhale sharply. Twisting in her chair she saw the archangel standing with a hand on one hip and a child balanced on the other. She still couldn't believe this tiny creature was Sam—especially not when he was clinging to someone other than Dean and staring at them all with guarded eyes.

“Yeah, I bet he's just a picture of humility,” Dean said sarcastically.

“Humility, decency, sexiness...” Gabriel rattled on until Dean smacked him in the back of the head none-too-gently, “Hey! Watch it, mister. Or risk not finding any bacon in that fridge for a week.”

“Max, what's this I hear about you making coffees?” the hunter asked, sidestepping Gabriel's halfhearted kick without even looking. The relaxed banter between Dean and the archangel was interesting—she knew how rare it was for the older Winchester to get that comfortable around others. The fact that he was still allowing Gabriel to carry Sam told her even more about their level of trust.

“Coming right up,” Max answered breathlessly, still staring at Gabriel.

“You might want to watch the drooling,” Jody whispered to him and she stifled her laugh when his sister stomped his foot.

Gabriel wriggled his eyebrows at the male witch, “Do I get a coffee too?”

A slow smirk appeared on Max's face, “Hmm, definitely. But you're gonna need a few extra ingredients.”

“I usually do,” Gabriel shot back.

“Oh my God, you two!” Dean yelled into the fridge, “Max, make him the damn drink so he'll shut up! Gabriel, put my brother down before you flirt that much!”

Gabriel just cackled and walked with Mary to join them at the table. They crammed in at end next to Jody and she finally got an up-close look at the boy. His hair was darker and curlier, and all the sharp angles of his face had been rounded out. But there was no mistaking those hazel eyes brimming with emotion.

“Taking your 'little brother' role a little serious there, aren't you Sam?” Jody teased softly, unsure the best way to approach her changed friend.

The big eyes blinked twice before he huffed a laugh and gave a very Sam-like grin. “Maybe. I still think Dean helped with the whole thing so he could be taller again.”

Jody glanced at the older brother and heard him snort. “I'd believe that,” she agreed.

“Thanks, Jody. For helping and stuff,” Sam said, suddenly shy.

Jody scoffed, “I don't know how much help I actually provided. But you know me—I'm a sucker for a Winchester with a pretty face.”

“Don't lie!” Dean said sternly as he brought an armload of covered dishes and platters to the table, “Mom and I were trapped here until you showed up.”

“Yes, where I freed you with my clever use of turning a doorknob,” she replied dryly.

“You called Alicia and Max to help us find Sammy,” Mary added in a quiet, grateful voice, never taking her eyes off her son.

“Oh, Sam hasn't met them yet!” Jody realized, “Sam, this wonderful woman is Alicia Banes. And the gentleman mixing drinks is her brother, Max.”

“It's nice to finally meet you, Sam,” Alicia smiled from her place. Sam nodded shyly and leaned against Gabriel.

“Heads up,” Dean called from the other end of the table and slid a red bowl to the archangel.

“Perfect. Thanks, Deano!” Gabriel pried the lid off one-handed and pulled the bowl closer.

“Gabe, I'm not hungry,” Sam frowned at the bowl.

“Would you rather some cream of wheat or oatmeal? Something bland and hot?” Gabriel asked as he snatched what looked like a giant blackberry and popped it into his own mouth.

“Not really...”

A glass of milk appeared over Jody's shoulder and she jumped. Dean set it down next to the bowl and ruffled Sam's hair. “Drink it or you'll be that size forever.”

“Dean,” Sam grumbled, “I'm not...”

“You're not hungry, I know,” his brother waved off the protest, “But your stomach is probably still shut down from everything. Drink that—at least it will keep you from feeling sick when it does wake up. Plus, you could use the calories.” Sam stared at the glass without moving. “Now, Sam, or I get a bottle and rock you to sleep with it later.”

Sam's mouth dropped open and he stammered in outrage, “Y-you, you are...you wouldn't dare!”

“Is that a challenge? Do you really think I wouldn't make Cas fly to the store and get you something covered in cartoons? Drink it, dude.” Dean looked pointedly at the glass when there wasn't instant compliance.

With flaming red cheeks, Sam grabbed for the glass. His hold was weak and the glass tipped in his small hands, but Gabriel was already helping before Jody could react. He supported the glass' weight while Sam brought it to his mouth. “You're such a fucking jerk,” he murmured.

Jody saw the twins do identical double-takes at the words. She was used to Sam using language—just not in such a sweet little voice. A glance at Mary showed the woman seemed unphased by it. In fact, she was looking at Dean as though waiting for something.

“Yeah, well you're a fucking bitch,” Dean gave an exasperated eye roll.

Mary just shrugged when Jody looked to see her reaction, “They've been this way since I got here. That first morning, Sam threatened to kick Dean in the balls, and Dean called him a little shit. That's been pretty consistent ever since.” Mary smiled fondly and glanced at Castiel who was hovering behind where Dean sat, “I was assured their behavior was normal.”

“ _Normal_ is not a word I've ever associated with your boys. Especially that one,” Jody said with a nod toward Dean.

“Hey!” he protested, but it was ignored as Max returned with a tray of mugs.

“Here we go, folks,” Max placed the steaming drinks in front of Dean and Mary before presenting Gabriel's with a small bow.

The archangel set down the milk Sam had quit sipping in favor of the whipped cream and chocolate topped mug. Jody swore she saw the caramel eyes flare gold for a second as he tasted whatever was underneath the tower of cream. Gabriel said something in a language she didn't recognize but she knew a swear when she heard one—Castiel and Sam's simultaneous blush and jolt only confirmed it.

Carefully, Gabriel placed the mug back on the table and looked down at Sam. “Kiddo, I'm gonna need some alone time with this,” he said, waving his hand over the drink, “Guard your mother for me—she may get jealous and you're a good distraction.”

Sam's eyes widened in brief panic, but then a warmth filled the air around the archangel. Jody felt herself relax and a heartbeat later Sam calmed too. He rolled his eyes at the floppy haired archangel and replied in more words she didn't know. Gabriel snickered and gently moved the boy into Mary's lap.

Mother and son froze, neither appearing to know what to do. Jody watched, entranced, as Mary slowly leaned forward to press her face into the soft curls. The sound of the others talking faded into the background. Mary whispered something in Sam's ear and his face broke into a grin. His body relaxed sideways into her and her arm came up around his waist.

Gabriel's hand slipped down and brought Sam's feet up to rest on his lap. “It's my new official favorite. And that's saying something because it just replaced a drink that's reigned champion for at least a few centuries.” His voice brought Jody back to the conversation.

Max grinned and sipped his own coffee, “I call it an _Emerald Isle_. Espresso, steamed milk, chocolate, Irish cream, and peppermint. I couldn't do the espresso on the road, so I brewed it extra strong.”

“It is perfect,” Gabriel sighed.

“I know,” Max stood and grabbed Sam's glass of milk, “Let me fix this for you, Sam. It's not fair that everyone else gets a special drink and you're stuck with cold milk.”

“No liquor!” Dean called to him.

Max gave him a Sam-worthy side eye, “Clearly I gave _you_ too much if you think I'm that stupid.” Jody laughed with the others at Dean's red faced sputtering. A minute later, Max returned with a small travel mug. The sealed top and covered drink spout made for a very dignified adult-alternative to the sippy cup. Jody was never going to look at her coffee thermoses the same again. “Here ya go. Tell me what you think.”

Sam looked startled to find himself holding the silver cup and took a drink out of automatic politeness. His eyes lit up in delight and he took another longer draw. “Wow,” he breathed, “That's really good.”

“I thought you might like it. I make it for Alicia and I if when we need a pick-me-up. Warm milk with a little chocolate and mint. Never fails.”

“Thanks,” Sam said, sipping on his drink.

“Anytime, my man,” Max filled a plate from the platters of food and sat back down.

“This is amazing,” Alicia said around a mouthful of spinach pie.

“Gabriel's become our resident chef,” Dean said, stuffing his face even faster as though not to be outdone by a lady.

Gabriel shrugged, “I'm a stress baker.”

Jody absently picked at her food, enamored by the sight of Sam leaning his head against Mary. His eyes were growing heavy. Mary carefully pried his fingers away from the cup and set it on the table. Leaning back in her chair, the blonde wrapped her right arm around him as well and let out a breath.

“I suspect you would use any emotion as an excuse to cook,” Castiel spoke up quietly, “You have grown quite fond of spoiling those around you.”

Jody shoved a bite of kiwi to cover her smile when Gabriel blushed. His eyes moving to Sam's still form. “Shut up, Cassie,” he mumbled.

“Holy shit,” Dean whispered, staring at his brother, “Is he sleeping?”

“Yeah,” Mary said just as quiet, “I think so.”

“Oh, he's out. You sure you didn't slip him a shot of liquor?” Gabriel raised an eyebrow at Max.

“I'm sure,” Max replied, “That boy was barely awake when you brought him in here. How are you amazed he passed out as soon as his belly was full?”

“Actually, I don't know what's got me more surprised—him being asleep or the fact that he finished your drink. Those are usually our two biggest battles after tough hunts,” Dean explained, shaking his head in disbelief. “I was sure he had another twelve hours in him, minimum.”

“A bath, full belly, and wrapped in a heated energy blanket—I'd sleep for a week straight.” Alicia grabbed one of the infamous maple bacon doughnut, split it, and put the other half on her brother's plate.

Castiel and Gabriel's heads both shot up. “You can feel Gabriel's grace?” Castiel asked, staring at Alicia.

“If you mean the swirling cloud of sunlight that's got me half asleep all the way over here, then yes, we can feel it.” Max answered wistfully.

“You can _see_ my grace too?” Gabriel sounded impressed. “Man, you two are something else.”

“We know,” they said together.

Jody just chuckled and stood up. Stretching out her back she said, “Well, I'm pooped. I think Sam has the right idea. Do you guys care if I crash?”

“Same,” said the twins, both of whom were failing to stifle yawns.

“Come on, Cassie. It's time for all the humans to get some sleep,” Gabriel stood and helped Mary to her feet with Sam.

As they made their way through the hallway, drowsily following the angels, Jody moved next to Mary. “You get some sleep too, okay? I get the feeling you'll have your hands full with both of these boys when they're rested and energized.”

Mary gave her a tired smile. “At least I've got nannies who never need to sleep.”

“Hear that, Cassie? We're nannies now,” Gabriel whispered loudly from the front.

 


	2. You Must Know Life To See Decay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always Keep Fighting  
> For yourselves and each other, always keep fighting.

Raphael walked the grounds with slow strides once the flock disappeared behind the bricks. His bare feet crunched against leaves as he took in the Winchesters' home. How had this crumbling structure been deemed an acceptable nest for the fledgling? He would have to discuss plans for improvement with Gabriel as soon as things were settled.

In the meantime, Raphael inspected the treeline and clearing around the building. The space was filled with echoes of grace that sent shivers down his wings. Most were pleasant and he recognized his brothers' signatures. Smiling, he circled the fire pit. The flames danced over logs without consuming them and there were heated blankets strewn around—both had Gabriel's fingerprints all over them. There was a lot of joy in that spot.

But as he strode closer to the trees, he discovered a powerful scar freshly carved amid the nicer energies. Raphael knew of only one thing capable of damaging wavelengths and dimensions outside the ones humanity existed in. The Tear of God sat heavy alongside his archangel blade. It was the safest place for it to reside until the Healer could return it to Heaven. He was unsure if the humans who had wielded it were knowledgeable enough to do so safely or if everyone was miraculously lucky they hadn't demolished the continent in an ignorant misstep. Neither scenario sat well with Raphael.

Taking a deep breath of the brisk mid-day air, he stretched his senses out to exercise his renewed grace. Sparks of life, formed by the odd menagerie of human souls and angelic grace, shone bright from within the bunker. Waves of power poured off Gabriel in steadily increasing amounts as the minutes ticked by. It warmed Raphael to be reunited with the younger archangel. They had been as close as Michael and Lucifer once, and the Messenger's absence had devastated him. Still devastated him.

The patrol of angels circling high above the treeline caught Raphael's attention. He touched their minds and received a jubilant response from Michael's chosen guard. Their exuberance made him laugh.

A sudden surge of emotion and energy came from the bunker. Raphael immediately went on high-alert, and flew to the front entrance. Focusing on the source, he found Gabriel exuding massive amounts of grace and the fledgling in a frantic state. The Healer's blade dropped into his hand, taking the form of a silver staff.

 _Brother? Do you need assistance?_ he asked, preparing to fly to their side.

The second before he heard Gabriel's reply seemed infinite. _No. Not yet. Sam panicked at something I said and almost hurt himself trying to escape. But I've doused him in warm fuzzies and he's calming down. Hold on._

Raphael wasn't sure he knew the phrase “warm fuzzies,” but he understood the gist of what was said. He felt his brother's turbulent emotions through their bond, ruffling his grace like wind in leaves. He pushed back with a calm and strength that grew to ground the Messenger. Finally, he heard Gabriel again.

_We're okay. Sam is talking, which is a huge step after these kinds of episodes._

Raphael frowned. _Do they happen often?_

_Kinda._

Before he could ask another question, an angel from the patrol appeared in front of Raphael. “ **Sir, is...everything alright?** ”

“ **Zadkiel,** ” Raphael voice rumbled and he smiled fondly at the angel of mercy, embracing him. Zadkiel tensed in his arms. The Healer sent a touch of grace to run over the soldier and felt him relax in relief. It settled something inside Raphael to have an angel react in a familiar way.

Zadkiel pulled away reluctantly, “ **Sir, there was a disturbance inside the building. We were unsure how to respond. Michael only told us to make certain no one approached this location.** ”

“ **Did he tell you exactly who you were protecting?** ” Raphael's eyes twinkled.

“ **I know it involves the Winchesters and Gabriel and the cry that shook Heaven right before Michael's arrival. Is it...** ” Zadkiel broke off like he expected to be rebuked for asking questions, but at Raphael's nod he continued, “ **Is it true? There is a new fledgling?** ”

Raphael leaned against his staff, “ **It is true. And it is Samuel Winchester.** ”

Zadkiel gasped, “ **How...how is that possible?** ”

“ **Our Father deemed it so. Samuel is unique—the boy's soul was bound with grace to heal damage from the cage. But he is still struggling. The people you are protecting him from held him captive. He was hurt. That is the disturbance you felt.** ” Raphael was proud of the angel when it only took a moment for the implications to set in.

“ **A fledgling who carries memories and damage from Lucifer's cage? And he was hurt by _humans_ ? Forgive me, but why has he not been brought to Heaven? Surely it is safer for you to heal him there.** ” His eyes looked over the ragged exterior of the Winchester home and his wings shifted in a display of frustrated discomfort.

Raphael's head tilted in curiosity. If some of the angels had managed to retain their compassion then perhaps Heaven wasn't as far gone as he'd feared. “ **You already accept him? Enough to brave questioning this decision?** ”

“ **I...Yes, I...** ” Zadkiel stuttered with confusion, “ **Are we not supposed to accept him? You _did_ say God Himself deemed it so. Only He has the power to create new angels and restore the archangels to their full glory. Why should I not accept Samuel?** ”

Raphael openly studied the seraph. “ **The boy does not have a happy history with Heaven or the Host. You were told to consider him an abomination. Has that changed since my death?** ”

“ **Much has changed since your death, brother,** ” Zadkiel answered slowly, “ **We have slaughtered each other, fallen to Earth, fought ancient forces. There has been an occasional peace between Heaven and the Winchesters, but it was always tentative and fleeting. Mostly, we avoid them. But,** ” he broke off and turned his gaze to the woods, “ **there are many who admire Samuel's actions against Lucifer, even if they curse him for including Michael.** ”

“ **And you?** ”

Zadkiel met Raphael's eyes. “ **I have never personally met Samuel Winchester, but I remember occasionally hearing his prayers.** ”

That surprised Raphael—seraphs rarely heard the prayers of humanity unless their name was specifically mentioned. And most of their names were unknown to humans. “ **Really? How?** ”

“ **He often prayed for mercy, which was my jurisdiction. His prayers...they showed me a side I never heard described by others in the Host. And today, thanks to the Winchesters, I have _seen_ both Michael and Raphael standing before me as I have not seen them since before Lucifer's fall. And I can _feel_ Gabriel's presence once again.** ” 

Raphael nodded, pleased with Zadkiel's answer. “ **Well then, brother, as to why we have not moved Samuel to a better location—we learned our lesson during the Apocalypse. It is not wise to try and separate these brothers. I am certain Dean Winchester would storm our gates.** ” 

Zadkiel cringed at the thought. “ **Ah, yes, the Righteous Man. He sounds...interesting.** ”

That made the Healer chuckle—“interesting” was a vast understatement. “ **He certainly is that.** ” Raphael did a quick check on those inside the bunker. It appeared everyone had gathered in the same space again. The child was calm, almost asleep. “ **There are many reasons we are not rushing to remove Samuel. His human family is here, and they are very protective. But more importantly, Samuel does not trust us. We have given him no reason to trust us. He does, however, trust Castiel and Gabriel.** ”

“ **That may upset some members of the Host. Many still regard Castiel as a traitor.** ”

“ **He is not the only one to make mistakes that hurt Heaven,** ” Raphael gave a sad smile, “ **And it is all the more reason Samuel should remain where he is now. The Winchesters, Castiel, and Gabriel are a flock. They are not to be separated.** ”

Zadkiel stared at him in amazement, “ **Humans and angels have formed a flock? Together?** ”

Raphael nodded, “ **Yes. They have a strong bond. To remove Samuel would only upset him more.** ”

“ **Upset him** _**more** _ **?** ”

“ **The humans who hurt him—they burned his grace with holy fire. It caused his wings to try and manifest early. So far, he has refused my attempts to heal him. Gabriel believes the boy will allow me to work on him once he has rested.** ” Raphael wasn't as confident, but then again Samuel had surprised him several times in the past several hours.

Amazement transformed into horror on Zadkiel's face, “ **They...what?! How old** _**is** _ **he?** ”

“ **Almost midway through his third century.** ”

“ **No,** ” Zadkiel whispered as his wings rose in response, “ **How is it even possible?** ”

“ **I am not sure,** ” Raphael admitted and guided the younger angel to walk with him. Now that the crisis had passed from within the bunker, he wanted to keep walking the perimeter. “ **It may be the presence of his human soul. Or possibly the pain and damage inflicted on his grace. He is unique.** ”

“ **And powerful,** ” Zadkiel added softly.

Raphael gave him a sharp look. “ **Explain.** ”

“ **We felt the wave of grace that accompanied his cry. I have no memory of any angel, other than the archangels, who have resonated such strength,** ” the seraph wrung his vessel's hands together, “ **Of course, I do not know much about fledglings other than what I remember from my own youth. I was in the last generation created until today.** ”

The Healer's features softened when he heard no reservations or animosity behind the words, “ **Our Father used His own grace when reforming Samuel. You are correct—the child is very powerful. And I am hoping, after Michael and I have had time to work on Heaven's brokenness, that Samuel might be willing to visit the Host.** ”

Zadkiel nodded and relaxed slightly, “ **That would be nice. I know I look forward to meeting him. And the return of three archangels is a victory worth celebrating.** ” He smiled, broad and bright.

Raphael rested his hand on Zadkiel's shoulder and directed the younger angel toward a wooden bench. “ **Sit,** ” he ordered, pushing him easily into the seat.

“ **Sir?** ” Zadkiel sounded alarmed.

“ **They are settling into sleep. Gabriel and Castiel are with the child. The patrol above us are alert, and it would take an invading army to stand a chance at trying to get past us all. You are a mess—just look at you,** ” he tutted disapprovingly and ran his hands in broad sweeps down Zadkiel's back, “ **Are there no healers left in Heaven?** ”

Zadkiel made an undignified noise as Raphael's grace sifted expertly through his wings. “ **Y-yes, we still have healers. But they have not bothered with grace maintenance since before the Apocalypse.** ”

Raphael's hands paused, “ **They stopped basic grace work before my death?** ”

“ **They stopped a few centuries before the Winchesters were born. I-We thought it was by your order. Since your death, many healers were killed in civil wars. The only work they can do is heal battle wounds—the few we have left are drained themselves.** ”

“ **I was unaware my apathy went back that far** ,” taking a shaky breath, Raphael continued his ministrations, “ **Well, that is one thing that will change when I return. There is no use bringing a fledgling to a place with no caretakers. We must ensure Heaven is a home worthy of its name.** ”

Without another word, the Healer made quick work of adjusting the seraph's grace. There were old wounds left unattended that needed fixing as well as an abundance of blockages due to the emotional and spiritual stress that came with surviving several years of anarchy. It was easy for Raphael to fall back into his intended role when he had a willing patient. Humming to himself, he wondered what it would take to gain Samuel's trust.

* * *

Mary Winchester held her youngest son close to her chest as she sat on the sofa in their shared room.

She stayed mindful of where her arm touched his back and kept it high enough to avoid his shoulder blades. It seemed unreal to imagine wings sprouting from her son's bruised back, but she trusted the angels' warnings.

Dean flopped flat on his back across the largest bed, groaning as his muscles sank into the mattress. “Oh God, I think I could sleep for a week.”

“That does not seem like a healthy amount of sleep,” Castiel whispered.

“Quit being literal and take a damn nap,” Dean grumbled with his eyes closed.

“I do not require sleep, Dean,” Castiel shook out a blanket that sat folded across the end of the twin bed closest to him and laid it across the hunter, “But you and Mary do. Go to sleep. Gabriel and I will keep watch while you all rest.”

Mary looked up to see Gabriel perch himself on the edge of the coffee table in front of her. “You look pretty tired too, Mary.”

“I know,” she sighed, brushing soft curls away from Sam's eyes, “I'm just not quite ready to put him down yet.”

Gabriel smiled, “Yeah, I know the feeling. He's not usually a big cuddler, is he?”

Her eye's darted to Dean's blanket-covered form. He was the one Sam physically interacted with the most. The brothers were almost in constant sight of each other. It was easy to tell when Sam felt uneasy because he tended to curl his fingers around whatever item of Dean's clothing he could reach. She wondered if he'd done that as an adult too.

“He was an octopus as a kid,” Dean's voice was muffled by the blanket and Mary wondered if he knew she was looking at him. “He was always wrapped around my leg or back or neck. He'd sit on my feet or shoulders and want me to walk with him there.”

“Sam is not like that now,” Castiel said as he sat on the twin bed next to Mary.

Dean snorted, “No shit. We stopped doing piggyback rides when he was nine. Besides, it would have been kinda awkward trying to fit a six-foot-four man on my shoulders. And I'm talking awkward on _all_ levels—physical, emotional, social, probably even spiritual.”

“I still can't picture him as an adult. I mean,” she huffed a laugh, “I know there's an adult mind under this baby-face, but it's hard to remember unless you're listening to him talk.”

The room was quiet for a second, then Dean spoke again in a softer voice. “He's totally different from how he was at this age. How he carries himself, how he moves, how he sits—it's all calculated and smaller. Six-year-old Sammy was a floppy, clumsy, talkative mess. He sprawled across beds and floors and me, and had no concept of personal space. But now,” he rolled onto his side and propped himself up on an elbow to see them, “sometimes he acts like he's still a giant. Sam had a way of making himself smaller, less intimidating.”

Mary's chest tightened as she pulled her boy close enough to breathe in the herbal scent of his hair. She tried to remember if she'd ever seen Sam move in any kind of carefree way. Children usually had an air of wild abandon as they learned to interact with the world. But Dean was right—Sam's movements were always calculated. She'd just assumed he'd been the same as a child.

“Hey,” Gabriel whispered and laid a hand on her shoulder, “just you wait till he's healed up and learns how to use those wings and properly access his grace. Chances are we're all gonna have our hands full with a super-charged Sammy. Fledglings can't help it—there's too much joy in the discovery. And he'll feel like he's plugged into a sun's worth of energy. We'll be pulling him out of trees and off roofs and be patching up scraped knees for a while.”

She smiled at the memory of that first picnic outside, cherishing the image of Sam sprinting away from Dean who pursued him with brotherly glee. Of course, seconds later had found everyone in a complete panic when Sam disappeared into the treetops. “I could do without the tree climbing. My heart may not be able to handle it.”

“Don't worry,” Gabriel patted her with a chuckle, “he'll have enough overbearing angels to intervene. And they'll all fight over who gets to kiss his boo-boos first.”

“Why are you not including yourself in that description? Surely you would be leading such an effort and claim first-rights,” Castiel deadpanned. Dean put the blanket back over his head and snickered.

“I don't know what you're talking about, Cassie,” Gabriel said with a wink to Mary. Castiel merely hummed in response and gave his brother a knowing look.

“He's right,” Mary said, “I mean, I know angels are supposed to protect their charges, but you seem a little...dedicated.”

“And I think you're delusional from a lack of sleep,” Gabriel teased. Then, he gave a long, dramatic show of yawning.

Mary couldn't stop the answering yawn from nearly unhinging her jaw. “Stop that!” she demanded when he instantly went into another and she felt herself respond again.

“I'm sorry,” he yawned a third time, “what was that? You're not sleepy?” A fourth yawn followed.

Mary kicked him in the shin when she couldn't verbally reply. When she got her breath back, she had to admit defeat. Her eyes were growing heavier as her muscles were forced to relax. “Okay, okay, enough already. Should I lay Sammy down on a bed or are you taking him?”

Gabriel leaned forward and gently scooped Sam out of her arms. “I think Cassie deserves a turn,” he said, “I need to go talk to Raphael. It's not a good idea to leave him out there on his own for too long. He's probably covered the yard in pillows. And bubble wrapped all the corners of the bunker. And built a safety fence around the fire pit.”

Castiel looked startled but stood to take Sam from the archangel. “I would like a chance to talk with Raphael as well. Preferably before he enters the bunker or works on healing Sam.”

Nodding, Gabriel placed the sleeping boy in his brother's waiting arms. Mary watched as she stood and stretched. She noted the lack of awkwardness, and marveled at how natural the younger angel was now at holding Sam. When had he lost that new-dad-panic he'd displayed early on?

“Raise your true temperature a bit. He rests a lot better if there's really warm grace to latch onto,” Gabriel whispered as he fussed over them, “There you go. Here, sit down and I'll get a blanket.”

“Oh yeah, I'm definitely delusional. You aren't dedicated at all.” She skirted the pillow that suddenly swung her way. It missed her and hit Dean instead.

“Hey!” he grumbled loudly.

She glanced at Sam and saw him shifting against Castiel. The angel glared at Gabriel who had the decency to look apologetic. “Oops,” he cringed.

Mary stifled a laugh and ended up yawning again. “Wake me up if you need anything or if something happens,” she said as she climbed under the blankets. She was asleep before anyone could answer.

* * *

Gabriel grabbed the fleece blanket from the empty twin bed and tiptoed back to his scowling brother. He held up the blanket in surrender. _Sorry, bro. Didn't mean to hit your hunter!_

Castiel's frown grew deeper. _He is not 'my' hunter. But Dean was correct earlier—it is very difficult to get Sam to sleep after rough events. He is often plagued with nightmares and insomnia for weeks. If he were to wake up, it could be a day or two before he sleeps again._

Gabriel slowed his movements and gently tucked the blanket around Sam's legs. _Understood. I'm beginning to think the kid doesn't have a 'normal' sleep schedule. I keep waiting for him to stop having bad nights, but there's only been a couple that haven't ended in screaming._

Adjusting his arms around the blanket, Castiel lost the scowl and sighed. _He sleeps best when he is near others. Hopefully, he will allow himself to remain with everyone in here at night._

 _I think we can get creative when it comes to making that happen. No one's going to be willing to let him return to his room any time soon. Myself included._ Gabriel already had several plans for convincing Sam to stay in what was shaping up to be a humanized-nest space. Looking around the room, he started thinking about colors and lights and rugs. He had a safe-house dedicated entirely to storage. There were several tapestries that Sam would love...

 _Gabriel, what is a puppy pad?_ Castiel interrupted his thoughts of interior decorating.

 _What?_ Gabriel frowned in bewilderment at the change of topic.

_A puppy pad. Dean told me I needed one, but when I asked he didn't answer._

_Um, I think they're absorbent sheets you use to train dogs where to go to the bathroom. Or you put them in their crates in case they have an accident._ Gabriel was smiling now. _Why did he tell you that?_

The blush on the seraph's face delighted Gabriel's inner big-brother. _I may have gotten a little...exuberant...when Dean promised to get Sam a dog._

Gabriel's eyes widened in surprise. _When was this?_

_This morning. Dean wanted Sam to open his eyes and when he promised a dog, Sam complied. I admit, I did not think it would work. But when it did, I was excited. The idea of an animal companion within the bunker is very appealing._

_Oh sweet Dad, let me make a few calls later today. I know someone who can help us out. Don't let Dean do anything just yet, okay?_ His mind spun with possibilities.

 _What are you thinking, brother?_ Castiel's frown was back, and it was suspicious.

Gabriel scoffed and waved him off. _Don't you worry, Cassie. I promise not to get him a hellhound. But he's unique kid—he deserves a unique pup. One that can keep up with a fledgling._

_Gabriel..._

_Do you really think I would give something dangerous to Sam?_ He looked seriously at Castiel and saw the seraph relax.

_No, of course not. But you may wish to mention it to Dean and Mary before choosing without their input._

_Good idea,_ he agreed as he stood straight. _I'm gonna go talk to Raphael. We need to strategize on what to do with these poor wings._ Gabriel winced at the seared tendrils swirling within the buds. The grace was raw and exposed. They had to be fixed soon—preferably before something happened to hurt them further. The sight sickened him. Sam should never have experienced such violence. No one should.

 _Do you know what you will do? Can the process be reversed until they naturally manifest?_ Waves of worry flowed through their bond as Castiel turned anxious eyes on him.

 _I'm not really sure, Cas. This type of thing is beyond my experience. But I'm sure between all of us we will figure something out._ He wished he could reassure his brother better, but he honestly wasn't sure the best course of action. Healing wasn't his area of expertise. _Do you need anything before I go?_

Castiel shook his head and melted more into the cushions. _No. I will call you if he wakes up before you return._

 _Call me if you even think he may wake up, okay?_ After the incident in the bathtub, Gabriel was loathe to let Sam out of his sight. Too much tended to happen too quickly around the Winchesters.

Castiel's eyes narrowed. _Does something specific concern you?_

Damn, but baby bro was getting too good at being perceptive. Gabriel chewed his lower lip. _We don't know what can trigger him right now. He went from calmly sitting in the bath to a blind panic in less than a blink. All I did was suggest using the shower head to wash his hair after the bath to keep his back dry. I have no idea what part of that upset him, but I suspect it has to do with those British bastards. Until Sam tells us, we won't know what else could possibly set him off...or how he'll react. I'd rather be here in case his grace goes wild._

 _I understand,_ Castiel nodded. _Go, talk to Raphael. I will call you if he stirs._

Gabriel smiled in thanks and slipped out into the hall. The bunker was dark and silent. He felt the slumbering minds of the other humans as he passed closed doors. Emerging into the brighter light of the midday sun, he slowed his steps. Part of him was ecstatic to see his older brothers and bursting with hope for being a family again. But Gabriel still had doubts.

Michael certainly seemed like his old, glorious self when he'd helped guide them through reentry. But anyone can appear a literal God-send when they swoop into the midst of crisis and save the day. It would take time for Gabriel to know whether or not the change was permanent. Raphael, however, was a different story.

Since the beginning, Michael and Lucifer had revolved around each other as equal and opposite forces. Raphael assumed his role as the stabilizing rock within the trio, and tried to temper their intensity. When Gabriel came along, the two youngest archangels naturally bonded. But where Michael and Lucifer were a clash of fire and ice, Raphael and Gabriel were steady earth and the rush of air.

Gabriel stopped at the corner of building and nervously blew out a breath. Looking back, their relationship seemed like it shouldn't work. Their dance was not the polarizing spin of their older brothers. Raphael was eternal patience and slow study of creation's intricacies. Gabriel embodied a hummingbird's need for constant movement, darting from one event or idea to another, always feeding his insatiable curiosity. They had their own balance—their own song.

But that was centuries ago. Did they still remember how? Gabriel had been flying without a tether for a long time while the Commander and Healer of Heaven hardened themselves in the absence of their favored siblings. And that didn't even touch Lucifer's transformation since his fall. They may never all regain their previous relationships and bonds.

Walking around the building, he followed the familiar hum of the Healer's grace and found Raphael grooming another angel on their picnic table. The bizarre sight broke through his melancholy and pulled a laugh out of him. It only grew louder when the sound made the poor seraph jump. Raphael held their younger brother still with his grip and sent Gabriel a disapproving look. The familiarity of it made his vision swim.

“ **Gabriel?** ” the angel's grace lit up.

“ **Zadkiel? Is that you?** ” Gabriel smiled warmly as he blinked away tears. He had always admired the angel of mercy and compassion. Zadkiel just nodded, almost incapable of speech. Gabriel turned to his older brother and saw love behind the stern expression. He felt safe enough to grin and teased, “ **Raphael, did you get antsy waiting and call someone down to groom?** ”

Raphael raised his eyebrows and Gabriel knew he was in trouble. Sure enough...  “ **Mind your tone, Gabriel. You will have your turn,** ” he pointed a long bony finger at Gabriel and scoffed, “ **Lecturing** _**me** _ **on impatience! Do not think I have forgotten your reckless flight this morning. Hurdling yourself toward the Earth with a seraph clinging to you with no more mind than the fledgling you wanted to save. I have seen your wings—you have no room to talk.** ”

“Yikes,” Gabriel muttered under his breath. He hadn't been scolded in forever. It felt wonderful.

“ **I can still hear you,** ” Raphael's deep voice echoed through the clearing. He patted Zadkiel's back, “ **You may return to your patrol, brother. Tell the others I shall see them soon. I want all members of the guard operating at their best, and I suspect they are in need of similar maintenance.** ”

Zadkiel stood and gave a short bow to Raphael. Instead of dismissing him, Gabriel watched as the Healer pulled the seraph into a tight embrace. The sight sent a delighted cloud of butterflies fluttering through his grace. This was the Raphael he remembered—the one who cared enough to let each of their siblings know they were cherished.

When they pulled away, Zadkiel hesitantly stepped toward Gabriel. Relief swept over him and he hugged the angel fiercely. Their graces brushed and it felt like home. He ignored the moisture on his cheeks as he gave a laugh and choked out, “ **Missed you, little brother.** ”

“ **I have missed you too, Gabriel. Will you be returning to us as well?** ”

“ **Right now, I have a charge to care for here. But I am not in hiding, and I plan to visit frequently once things are more stable.** ” He held Zadkiel at arms' length, keeping his hands on his shoulders and looking him in the eye. “ **You are on the patrol sent by Michael? Good, I am glad he picked you. If you need anything or see anything, let me know immediately. The fledgling and the humans are our priority--if I should leave these grounds for any reason without telling you, assume the worst and protect them.** ”

“ **Of course, brother,** ” Zadkiel nodded his understanding, “ **It is an honor to guard your flock.** ”

Gabriel's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He looked at Raphael and saw a hidden smile. Returning his gaze to Zadkiel, Gabriel stammered, “ **I—yes, thank you.** ” Zadkiel gave another bow and flew away.

Raphael and Gabriel stared at each other, looking past the human vessels to inspect their true-forms. It was Raphael who broke the silence. “ **How long have you been back?** ”

Gabriel blinked. That was unexpected. “ **Um, I've been with the Winchesters for about two weeks. I spent several decades with Dad before that. You?** ”

“ **Couple centuries with Father. Michael and I were on our way to Heaven when we heard Samuel.** ” He frowned and stepped closer, “ **You left Father's presence only two weeks ago?** ”

It was a struggle to not move away. “ **Yes. Why?** ”

“ **Did you do all this damage in your flight this morning?** ” There was no admonishment in his voice this time, only concern.

Gabriel brought one of his wings around to inspect. He winced at the frayed and ruffled sight. Looking sheepishly up at Raphael, all he said was, “Oops?”

The Healer gave a long-suffering sigh and trailed his fingers through the wing. Gabriel gasped as the presence of familiar grace bloomed along the touch and his knees gave out. Raphael caught him in long, willowy arms and gathered him close.

Suddenly, the weight of everything crashed over him—returning to life, learning of all that had transpired since his death, the stress of dealing with Sam's unique situation, and the terror of being thrown from the galaxy by human hands. His body shook with it all, and he didn't realize he'd been mumbling everything out loud until Raphael's low humming broke through the din.

Opening his eyes, Gabriel almost sobbed from the shared joy he found reflected back on his brother's lined face. “ **I am so sorry, Raphael.** ” He wasn't sure which transgression he was apologizing for—he was sorry for a great many things.

“ **I am sorry as well,** ” wrinkled fingers wiped away a stray tear from Gabriel's cheek, “ **I fear if I were to list all the wrongs I have done in your absence that I would be confessing for years.** ”

“ **Maybe we can skip that part for now, then, and focus on how fucking happy I am to see you again. Because I am...so fucking happy.** ” Gabriel buried his face in the embroidered tunic covering Raphael's vessel. It grounded him in a way he hadn't experienced in too long.

“ **I am greatly pleased to see you too,** ” Raphael rumbled and wrapped wings around the shorter archangel.

Healing energy poured into Gabriel and he realized what Castiel and Sam meant when they claimed he was overdoing it. He felt instantly buzzed and he floated on the sensation until he remembered there were other things besides past mistakes to discuss. Giggling into Raphael's shirt, he reluctantly pulled away. “ **Okay, enough. I cannot be grace-drunk right now, although I am absolutely inviting you to the next party,** ” he shook his head to clear it, “ **We need to discuss Samuel.** ”

Raphael nodded and stepped back. “ **How is he?** ”

Scrubbing at his face, Gabriel jumped onto the picnic table and sat down. He ignored the strange look from Raphael. “ **At the moment, he is asleep. His physical injuries should be done healing by this evening.** ”

White wings shifted in surprise. “ **Why so long?** ”

“ **His body is not a traditional vessel. This is not a human/angel cohabitation. Nor did Father create a separate vessel for him to enter as He did for you, Michael, and Castiel. As far as I can tell, Samuel's grace reformed his body itself as another aspect of his true-form. I am unsure how it will react to invasive healing attempts.** ”

Raphael frowned at the news. “ **And what about the boy's other injuries?** ”

“ **His grace and wings? Those are another matter.** ” He let out a shuddered breath. “ **I have no idea what to do. His grace tried to cook him alive on the ride home. We think they held Samuel in freezing conditions and his system is still acting on instinct trying to keep him warm. So far, it only responds to me or Castiel heating our own graces. Not a long-term solution.** ”

The Healer looked thoughtful. “ **Will he allow me to examine him?** ”

Gabriel shrugged. “ **I honestly do not know. There is a good chance he will if the rest of us are present. It helps that he does not associate you with any personal torment,** ” he smiled sadly, “ **It took a while for him to trust me when I first got here. And he still has moments where his doubts overwhelm his trust.** ”

“ **How was he before the kidnapping?** ”

“ **I showed you everything I have seen and heard since returning to Earth.** ”

“ **True, but observing an experience does not mean I have your understanding of the situation. I am missing the insight of your thoughts.** ” Raphael insisted with a nudge.

Gabriel felt his cheeks warm—it had been a lifetime since his opinion was sought after by another archangel. The thought over his answer carefully. “ **Before the kidnapping, we were already dealing with daily anxiety attacks brought on by Samuel's new grace processing old memories, nightmares ending in screams, and grace-surges powerful enough to electrocute his human family. He easily gets trapped in memories and has trouble distinguishing present reality from the past. You will see him digging into his palm or scratching skin—it is a behavior he learned to use when dealing with hallucinations of Lucifer.** ”

Raphael nodded. “ **I witnessed Samuel exhibit such behaviors this morning. I did not realize the significance of the gesture.** ”

“ **We have learned to look for it or else he continues until there is damage,** ” he scrubbed at his face in frustration, “ **These boys have a lot of issues. Most of them are rooted in their total and compete lack of self-worth.  Like they are only as good as their ability to sacrifice for others. I fear that will continue until they are convinced otherwise.** ” Gabriel tried not to imagine all the scenarios a self-sacrificing Sam Winchester could get himself into once he'd mastered flight. Maybe Dean was right about them needing a kid harness.

“ **Sacrifice? You mean their lives?** ” Raphael seemed startled.

Gabriel huffed, “ **Oh yeah! Do you know how many times they have died for each other or the world? More times than should be possible—believe me. It grew worse after the Apocalypse, and Castiel is in the same boat. All three of them are constantly trying to die, like it is some kind of competition!** ”

“ **They are suicidal?** ”

“ **Not suicidal in the traditional sense—at least, not that I have seen. But if the right situation were to arise, I guarantee one of them would take it. They consider themselves expendable. I am unsure how long Castiel has been this way, but the boys were trained into their mindset from childhood.** ” Gabriel scuffed his toes against the bench in frustration.

Nodding, Raphael continued his questions. “ **What else?** ”

“ **What else besides suicidal tendencies and a fleeting grasp on reality?** ” Gabriel sighed, then thought of some of the more positive things he'd learned since joining the Winchesters. “ **Well, Samuel gets lost in research far too much to be healthy, and you must watch him closely or he will forget to eat. Castiel is teaching him Enochian and we have been trying to create positive associations to it for him. I can tell you that he loves to be groomed if you keep your touch soft and slow and talk him through it. And if all else fails, show him your wings.** ”

Raphael stared at him as though waiting for a punchline. When nothing followed, he dropped his shoulders and rubbed the back of his neck. He joined Gabriel on the wooden table, leaning their shoulders together as he spoke in a deep rumble. “ **That is a lot to deal with alone, even for an archangel like yourself.** ”

Gabriel felt his vessel jerk as it tried to shrug and nod and hunch over all at once. He coughed to cover the awkward moment, and it only made the feeling worse. “ **I guess. It has not been the easiest couple of weeks, but...** ” he paused, not sure how to express the thought, “ **But they have been the best days of my entire existence.** ” Tears threatened to close his throat and he coughed again. “ **I have been without a true flock since I left. I have had families—people I loved and spent decades around—but this is different.** ”

“ **They are your flock. You are bound by grace and love.** ”

“ **Yeah. When I left, I put my grace on lock-down to become Loki. I lived and loved as Loki. Now, I am Gabriel again. And I have the best of both worlds—angels and humans. I belong to both.** ” He chanced a glance at Raphael, to see his reaction. It surprised him to find the Healer nodding along as though Gabriel's words were some sort of confirmation.

“ **What better way to fulfill your role as Father's Messenger than to be a conduit between Heaven and** **Earth?** "

Gabriel scrunched his face in confusion. “ **I** — **I guess?** ”

Raphael smiled, “ **We shall discuss this more later. For now, let me just say how pleased I am to see you, alive and happy.** ”

The words melted his confusion away, leaving only contentment. Resting his head against Raphael's shoulder, Gabriel marveled at the truth of his statement. Despite all that had happened, he _was_ alive and happy. And sometimes, that was enough.

* * *

Castiel raised his grace's temperature another degree and held his breath as Sam shifted restlessly. Their first half hour had been peaceful, the boy's body boneless with deep sleep. But then he started to fidget, his grace lighting up with tiny static charges. It wasn't enough to wake him, and so far the increased heat had kept the grace from growing dangerous.

 _Gabriel, I do not think Sam will stay asleep much longer. His grace is unsettled,_ Castiel tried to keep the worry out of their bond, but knew he'd failed when Gabriel appeared in front of him.

The archangel crouched down and studied Sam's back. Leaning closer, he sniffed them several times. _The burn-smell is stronger. And there's more grace pushing out back here. It looks like it's trying to get rid of the damaged parts._

Fear made Castiel's own wings flare before he pulled them into place and focused. _What do we do?_

Gabriel wiped at his mouth and stared back with wide eyes. _I think we need to take him to Raphael._

 _No!_ Castiel stopped him, then rushed to explain, _Wake Dean and Mary first, and bring Raphael here. Sam would not want to be separated and forced to endure healing from a virtual stranger._

 _Good plan._ Gabriel stood and walked over to Dean. Shaking the hunter's shoulder, he said, “Dean. Dean, wake up.”

Dean woke with a start and scrambled for the knife he usually kept under his pillow. Luckily, the angels kept the communal bedroom weapon-free. His head swung around until it landed on Sam in Castiel's arms. Blinking a few times, he turned to Gabriel. “What's wrong?”

“I need to get Raphael—Sam's burn has to be looked at now. Here,” Gabriel tapped Dean's forehead, “This will wake you up. You'll still have to sleep later, but right now I need you awake and alert.” The archangel quickly went and repeated the process with Mary. As soon as the humans were up, he returned to Castiel. “Just keep him warm and as settled as you can. I'll go get Raph.” He was gone before Castiel could blink.

Dean and Mary sat in the chairs across from Castiel as he increased his temperature a few more degrees. Sam whimpered in his sleep and clenched his eyes. Both Winchesters leaned forward in their seats.

“What's going on, Cas?” Dean quietly asked.

“I'm not really sure,” Castiel whispered, “He was sleeping fine, and then his grace became restless. I have been trying to let him sleep as long as possible, but it won't last.”

Footsteps sounded through the hallway. Gabriel appeared at the door, followed closely by Raphael. Castiel bit down the stream of words he wished to say at the sight of the Healer—it would have to wait. Gabriel turned on the lights with a gesture and resumed his crouch next to Sam. The boy was now groaning and turned his head away from the light.

“He's not awake yet?” Gabriel asked, reaching out to pull Sam's hair back. Not waiting for an answer, he tilted Sam's head so they could see his face. He continued in a gentle but insistent voice. “Sam? Sammy. Come on, kiddo. I know you don't feel good. Come on, Sam.”

Sam's eyes blinked against the bright overhead lights. Squinting, he tried to focus on the archangel's face. “Gabe?” he said, disoriented. A tiny spasm in the boy's grace had Sam hissing in pain.

“Easy there,” Gabriel smiled, but Castiel felt his anxiety. “I think we're gonna have to look at those wings now, Sammy.”

Sam's body tensed against Castiel. Small hands grasped at the collar of the trench coat to try and sit up. Castiel guided Sam to the seat beside him. Breathless from the pain of moving, he faced the room and took in each face. When he reached Raphael, Sam froze.

Castiel looked to Gabriel in his uncertainty. The archangel moved to perch on the edge of the table, blocking Raphael from Sam's view. “Look at me, Sam. Are you with me? It's okay.”

Sam gave a stilted half-nod and leaned to the side to keep sight of the other archangel. “I'm fine,” he sounded hoarse, “Why can't you and Cas do it?” The “without Raphael” came through loud and clear without being voiced.

“Because I have no experience healing holy fire burns. It's complex work that takes a specialist. I can help in the process, but Raphael is the only one who knows how to do it.” Gabriel reached for Sam's hand, but the boy wrenched it away and scooted back in his seat. Castiel's arm darted out to grasp the bare shoulder before it could press into the cushion.

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but slammed shut again when another spasm hit. His whole body shook, trying to ride it out. “Breathe, Sam,” Castiel said, calmer than he felt. He shifted his hand to the boy's neck and soothed the rigid muscles. Using the grip to keep Sam leaning forward away from the sofa, he got a clear look at the twitching grace. It was pushing itself further out in jarring spurts.

Taking a deep breath, Sam looked at Castiel. “I'm fine,” he said through clenched teeth and tried to push the hand off his neck.

Releasing him, Castiel frowned anxiously, “You are in pain, Sam. It—”

“I'm fine,” he snapped, “I don't need to be kept in place!”

Silence fell on the room. All Castiel could do was stare open mouthed at Sam. There was an undercurrent of rage in the fledgling's voice, fueled by layers of fear and pain.

A throat clearing made both Sam and Castiel jump. Dean stood up from his chair and shoved Gabriel to the other end of the table, then sat in his place. The hunter never looked away from his brother.

“Sam,” Dean started, but the boy cut him off.

“No.”

“Sam...” he sighed.

“No!” Adamant.

“Sam.” Reproachful.

“No.” Jaw clenched tight.

Another sigh.

“No.” Still firm.

“Please?”

Sam paused. The two continued the fight silently, locked in a battle of wills and stares. Eventually, Sam's shoulders dropped and he looked down at his knees. “I'm tired,” he whispered brokenly.

Dean's face paled. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, and exhaled slowly. “I know, Sam. I know, and I'm sorry.”

There was a conversation taking place under their words that Castiel could not hear. Whatever it was seemed vitally important and he felt more unnerved with each exchange. A glance around the room proved he wasn't the only one on edge. Mary and Raphael both looked confused while Gabriel was definitely verging on upset.

Laying a hand on Gabriel's knee, Castiel silently asked, _What is it?_

Gabriel's eyes swirled with gold as they turned to him. _Gadreel._

 _Oh_ , he replied. Then his thoughts caught up to him and he understood the implication. _Oh!_ Devastation rocked him. “Tired” meant more than exhausted. It meant a soul-deep weariness from constant battle and pain. It meant he didn't know how to keep going.

 _Yeah._ Gabriel covered Castiel's hand with his own as they continued to watch the brothers.

The minutes ticked by in silence until Dean slowly held his arms out. Sam looked up and frowned. He seemed in an internal debate for a moment. Then, the boy reluctantly reached back and allowed himself to be pulled into Dean's lap. He sat facing away from the rest of the people in the room. Castiel saw the muscles relax one-by-one as Sam gradually sagged against the hunter's chest.

“I'm sorry I didn't understand,” Dean finally said in a low voice meant only for Sam's ears, “It will never happen again.” Sam's spine straightened at the words, and Castiel saw his grace twitch. A hiss of pain escaped through surprised lips and Dean's right hand started massaging along Sam's lower back. “I promise, Sam. And I asked Cas and Mom to hold me to it.”

“Why?” Sam whispered.

“Because I didn't get it. I didn't _want_ to get it. Cas helped me to see what I'd missed—what I did to you. And I never...I never want to...I can't do that again. Ever.” It took several attempts, but when Dean finally got the words out Castiel felt more proud of his friend than ever before. Including all the times he'd saved the world. Gabriel's fingers squeezed his hand.

Sam was quiet. Castiel could see the boy's feet hanging on the other side of Dean's legs. The sock-covered foot kept rubbing along the exposed freshly grown skin of the right sole. He hoped it wasn't a new version of the “palm dig maneuver” Sam used.

With a heaving sigh, Sam twisted in place to better face his brother. “And if I say no?”

Dean's breath caught audibly and he had to swallow before he could speak. “Then the answer is no. But I don't know what happens to grace when wounds go unhealed. All I'm asking is that you at least hear us out before you decide. Things are different this time.”

“How?” Sam demanded, glancing out of the corner of his eye at Gabriel and Raphael.

“Sam,” Dean said softly and waited for his brother to meet his gaze, “Everything is different. No tricks, no deals. You know what is happening, and it's your decision. Why don't you ask some questions and find out your options first?”

Sam thought about it until another spasm spurred him into answering with a nod. “Fine. I'll listen.”

The air left Dean in a rush and he curled forward to rest their foreheads together. “Thanks, Sammy,” he murmured and took in a shaky breath, “How about we sit on the couch so we can see everyone again?”

Castiel watched Dean stand and turn, sitting back down next to him on the sofa. Hazel eyes stared at him with a mixture of regret and reservation. The seraph offered a smile, hoping to ease the emotional turmoil brewing there. “ **Sorry,** ” Sam said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“ **It is alright, Samuel. I did not mean to upset you.** ” The boy shrugged it off, but Castiel made a note to revisit the issue when they weren't in a crisis.

Dean cleared his throat, “Okay, Gabriel. Lay it on us. What are our options?”

“Right,” Gabriel said, sitting up and rubbing his hands together, “So, we _can_ do nothing like you asked. But Dean is right—everything about this is different. You are not dying, Sam. If you decide you don't want healing then the wound will fester. It might spread to slowly affect other parts of your grace. Or it may try to eventually heal itself. However, we are talking years—decades or more. The surges you were having before all this happened would probably get worse, and the injuries will keep you from being able to control it.”

Sam made a choked noise in his throat and clasped the bottom hem of Dean's t-shirt. He moved to face the archangel fully, hunching his shoulders as though preparing for a blow. The hunter resumed rubbing his knuckles along his brother's lower back. “And healing?” Sam managed to grind out.

“Raphael needs to examine you first. Then, he would explain what he thinks is the best course of action. You decide when and where and who you want present.”

The boy looked at Raphael and the air in the room thickened uncomfortably. A sock-covered toe tapped against the bare sole and Castiel winced. They would really have to monitor that.

Suddenly, a small static spark arced down one unformed wing and jumped to Dean. “Ah!” both brothers yelled in shock and pain. Gabriel grabbed Sam by the waist and picked him up, moving them to the far side of the room with two sets of wings walling off any additional surges. Castiel took Dean's hand and quickly inspected the blistered skin

“What the hell was that?!” He tried to pull his hand back in panic but Castiel held it firmly.

“It was Sam's grace,” he said in a low tone, trying to convey the need for calm. He had to drastically lower his own grace's temperature back down to normal, then made it even cooler to help the healing. The effect was immediate—Dean's arm went lax in his grip and the man sighed in relief. They watched the skin return to normal while Castiel explained, “The wound hurts and it's angry.”

“His grace is angry because it's hurt?” Dean asked.

“Angry because it knows other angels are nearby and it's being ignored,” Castiel clarified, looking up to see Gabriel whispering explanations to the confused boy. He felt Sam's distress at the realization that he'd hurt Dean. Castiel rushed to finish explaining, “An infant's instinct is to cry out if it needs something—food, changing, warmth. Fledglings are the same. Sam's grace has grown used to me and Gabriel interacting with it, and now it needs our attention.”

Dean nodded toward their brothers, “And he's freaking out because I got hurt.” It wasn't a question. The hunter stood and moved closer, keeping the king bed between them. “Sam, I'm fine. See?” Gabriel turned so Sam could see Dean who held up his hand to show unblemished skin. The hazel eyes shined bright with tears but his cheeks were dry. “See? I'm fine. Relax dude.”

Sam stared at the hand before turning to Gabriel. “That will keep happening? Because of the burn?”

“Yeah, it will,” Gabriel answered solemnly, “I'm sorry, kiddo.”

The boy heaved in a breath and said, “Okay then. I guess R-Raphael should take a look.”

“You're sure?” the archangel asked.

Sam didn't look sure, but he was making a strong effort to appear confident. “Yes. I can't go around accidentally electrocuting my family. I'm nervous and stubborn, not homicidal.”

“Alright. Is here okay or do you want to go out by the bonfire?”

“Here's fine,” Sam muttered as his false confidence faded.

Gabriel held him close and sat on the bed. “Okay. Let's get comfortable. Do you want to sit or lay down?” The only response was a small shrug.

Raphael walked over to them and gently brushed his fingertips against the fledgling's arm. “ **Hello again, Samuel.** ”

 


	3. Not This Mind and Not This Heart - I Won't Rot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy February 14th!!  
> I heard it's a special day. One that involves lots of candy and costumes.  
> Is it early-Halloween?? ;)  
> <3<3<3

Sam felt burnt-out. His grace, gifted straight from Chuck-as-God-Himself, raged from a fire that left him gutted. His mind, weary with overlapping thoughts and memories, spewed a steady stream of doubt. His body, drained from pain and fear, was beyond exhausted.

Waking up disoriented to deal with a room full of frantic mother hens made him want to hide under the bed. Everyone moved too fast, asking questions that required an immediate answer. There was so much grace in the room, it was hard to think straight. It smothered his senses, leaving him irritated and off-balance.

Sam closed his eyes and leaned into Gabriel. While Raphael didn't inspire the same terror as the two older archangels, he was still an unknown powerful figure. The Healer had shown patience and kindness when Sam was at his weakest, but that could change. People always changed once they got to know him. The archangel might come to the same conclusion as Ms Watt—that Sam was a freak even for an angel.

Taking a shaky breath, Sam pushed those thoughts aside. He'd consented to the exam, and there was nothing he could do to influence what Raphael found. If there was still some trace of demon blood, or any other remnants of the past, he had no way of hiding them.

Raphael looked at Sam like he _understood_ the hunter-turned-angel on a fundamental level—past Sam's own understanding of himself. It wasn't arrogant or cocky, but rather a quiet assurance carried in the archangel's piercing eyes. Shepard may have stripped Sam bare, but Raphael made him feel naked.

Gabriel's voice seemed distant when he asked about sitting or lying down. Sam could only shrug and brace himself for whatever Raphael might do. Fingers containing unfamiliar grace touched his arm. Sam held his breath and forced his body to stay still.

“ **Hello again, Samuel,** ” Raphael said.

Sam waited for the inevitable pain to explode between his shoulder blades. Instead, liquid heat poured over him like a second skin until he was covered head-to-toe. His eyes flew open and he stared at Gabriel in a panic, certain that if he opened his mouth the unknown substance would flood in.

“You're okay, Sam. Just breathe,” Gabriel tried to reassure. Sam shook his head and brought hands up to his face to feel along his mouth and nose. Gabriel pulled them away gently, “It's just Raphael's grace, Sam. You can breathe. Come on, kiddo, calm down and breathe.”

Hesitantly, Sam sniffed through his nose—nothing but air filled his lungs. His cheeks blazed with embarrassment, but it still took several minutes to stop fearing he drown. Raphael's grace, heavy and invisible, encased him completely. Sam fidgeted, but it moved with him. “ **What doing?** ” he mumbled against the strange sensation.

Gabriel rubbed his thumbs over the pulse point on Sam's wrists and studied him closely. “ **When an angel is injured, it is traditional for a healer to wrap them in grace. It keeps wounds from bleeding out and kick-starts natural healing. Wraps also provide comfort—they are meant to make you feel safe.** ”

 _Safe_ was not the word Sam would use to describe the sensation—it was more like being submerged in warm jello. _Disturbing_ was a better word. The bed sank behind him and a second large hand came to rest on his left shoulder. Raphael's voice rumbled like slow-rolling thunder, “ **I am sorry if it is disorienting. I have rarely had to do this for an angel in a vessel, and never one so young. Rest easy, it will not interfere with your breathing.** ”

Sam's grace twisted sharply beyond his shoulder blades and he gasped in a lung-full of air. He saw Dean move out of the corner of his eye. The memory of his brother's shout when he'd been shocked made Sam's stomach clench. Until his grace was fixed, he'd be a threat to everyone.

Gabriel sighed. Sam's eyes snapped to the archangel in time to see the sorrow swirling in gold. “ **What?** ” he asked before he could stop himself. The smile he received was hard to interpret—shaky and sad and a little forced. It only alarmed him more.

The weird smile melted into something more natural and Gabriel shook his head. “ **It is nothing. My thoughts wondered,** ” he said. Sam stared at him, unconvinced.

Golden grace danced up his arms, merging with Raphael's layer. It was more familiar, like summer wind, and Sam felt his own grace reach for it without permission. He tried to pull it back under control.

“ **It is okay,** ” Raphael said, making Sam jump, “ **Just let your grace do what it needs to do.** ” 

“ **It may even know better than you,** ” Gabriel teased.

Sam scowled and bit his lip to keep from retorting. His temper rose as his grace grew irritated at being held so tight. Another sharp surge rippled up his back, and it was too similar to how it felt after being whipped with the Olive branch. Sam hissed in pain and gripped Gabriel's shirt.

Raphael's hands moved to Sam's lower back without touching the wings. “ **Peace, Samuel. You are only hurting yourself,** ” the archangel's voice was deeper than before. The grace around Sam started tingling along his skin.

He let out a frustrated grunt as his body shuddered and tried to twist away from Raphael. Gabriel placed a palm in the center of Sam's chest and released a torrent of grace to swirl around the angry storm brewing. “ **Shh,** ” Gabriel soothed, leaning closer so they were nose-to-nose, “ **Enough. Samuel, look at me please. I need you to calm down. Can you speak?** ”

Those words caught Sam's attention—it was the phrase Gabriel used to let him know they were reaching a point where the archangel might have to intervene, with or without Sam's approval. With that in mind, Sam forced himself to be still, pushing down the desire to sprint from the room. He gave a shaky nod and said, “ **Yes.** ”

Gabriel smiled warmly and brought a hand up to brush the curls off Sam's face. “ **Good. Very good,** ” he breathed out, “ **I know you dislike healing. But if we do not help your grace soon, then you cannot stay around humans. That includes Dean and Mary.** ”

Sam swallowed hard as his stomach knotted. Turning to look at his anxious family, the feeling worsened at the realization that he wasn't just different—he was dangerous. His eyes found Castiel, and his restless grace instantly reacted by reaching for him. Castiel nodded and he took three long strides to join them.

“ **He is right, Samuel,** ” Castiel said gravely as he sat on the bed next to Gabriel, “ **Your grace is not stable with its injuries. Raphael will only be able to contain it for so long with that wrap.** ”

Sam closed his eyes, knowing Castiel was telling the truth, and took a deep breath. This was his own responsibility—he'd accepted Chuck's offer and allowed himself to be changed. For all he knew, this was part of Chuck's grand plan to make Sam trust the angels. Not that he thought God had planned on Sam getting kidnapped and tortured...

“ **Samuel,** ” Castiel's voice cut through Sam's thoughts and he opened his eyes, “ **are you still with us?** ”

“ **Yes,** ” Sam said determinedly. His grace continued to move angrily, but he didn't know how to make it stop. “ **What I do?** ”

Castiel glanced at Gabriel for a second before answering. “ **Healing is really just an advanced version of grooming. Do you trust me and Gabriel?** ” Sam nodded. “ **Then we can start with what is familiar. All you need to do is relax, stop pushing your grace down, and trust us to take care of you.** ”

A nervous laugh escaped Sam's throat, “ **That all?** ”

Castiel smiled sheepishly, “ **Perhaps I oversimplified.** ”

Sam rolled his eyes and felt himself start to relax with less effort. He turned to Gabriel. The archangel _looked_ ancient in that moment, the weight of centuries written on his face. Sam felt his resistance crumble under the knowledge that he _did_ trust them. He had prayed to them when he was hurt and despairing, and they had come. Sam looked away when he realized he'd repaid them with anger. “ **Sorry,** ” was all he could say.

Gabriel surprised him by pressing a kiss to his forehead, “ **None of this is your fault. I know this is hard. But I think Castiel's idea is good. How about you lay down and get comfortable, and we will go from there?** ”

Sam agreed and watched Castiel rearrange pillows until they had what amounted to a second mini-mattress in the middle of the bed. The hands on his back vanished, startling him. Turning around, Sam found Raphael calmly studying him. He looked away, again feeling more exposed than when he'd actually been stripped naked.

Gabriel directed Sam onto the pillows where he stretched out on his stomach. He blinked back tears when he felt a blanket draped across his lower back, keeping him warm and covered. Nerves made tiny tremors run through his body and he crossed his arms, hoping it would be less noticeable.

Castiel lowered himself down on his side until they were face to face. “ **Are you alright, Samuel?** ” he asked softly.

“ **Y-yes** ,” his teeth chattered as he spoke.

Blue eyes narrowed. “ **You do not look or sound alright.** ”

“ **You s-say I look bad?** ” he tried to joke. It might have been more effective if his breath hadn't hitched at the end.

Castiel didn't answer. Instead, he brought a hand up and ran it slowly through Sam's hair. Sam laid his head down and huffed into his arm. “ **Just relax. I will stay here. Your brother and mother are behind me. It is going to be fine.** ”

A deep humming filled the room. Sam recognized it from that morning when he'd first met Raphael. The song acted like a balm in the air, wrapping everyone in the rich, warm tones. Sam's irritation calmed and the pressure on his shoulders lessened enough to make breathing easier.

The bed dipped as the archangels switched seats, but Sam kept his gaze locked on Castiel. The blue eyes glowed brighter with the seraph's grace. The scent of rain slowly drifted over him, calming the tremors. His own grace rushed to meet the familiar presence and he allowed it. Closing his eyes, Sam drifted on the dance of energies filtering through his body

“ **Alright,** ” Gabriel's voice came from somewhere near Sam's feet, “ **We are going to start with the basics. The only difference will be Raphael joining us.** ” The blanket was pushed up his legs and fingertips tapped feather-light around his ankle, walking their way down to his toes. There was a rhythm to the soft patting. Each beat sent a tiny vibration through Sam's foot, stirring sensation back into the skin. He wiggled his toes against the sudden pins-and-needles, but the feeling persisted. Gabriel chuckled, “ **I know, it feels odd. Tell me if it starts to hurt, okay?** ”

“ **Okay,** ” Sam answered. Castiel's fingers left his hair to hold Sam's hand. He saw Castiel's gaze move to Raphael and the seraph nodded.

“ **Raphael is going to start,** ” Castiel relayed.

Sam closed his eyes and pressed his face into the pillow.

Large hands returned to his back, fingertips tapping a light rhythm up and down his spine. The vibrations fluctuated across his skin through the liquid layer of energy. He heard it resonate in time and pitch with Raphael's humming, like listening to music underwater.

His grace easily accepted the Healer's presence. It didn't recoil or lash out—instead, it seemed to purr, content in the knowledge that someone was finally attending its needs. Sam felt it drift toward the surface to lazily rub against the warm wrap.

The three angels' graces melded together, making it difficult to tell them apart. Sam tried for a time to follow who was doing what, but it became impossible as his mind became pleasantly sluggish. He floated in a haze.

“Did you know that I used to do this for Gabriel when he was your age?” Raphael asked. The humming never faltered.

It took Sam a second to respond to the change of language. “No,” he mumbled as fingers moved up his spine, sifting lightly through the grace that rested below the wings. Gabriel made a startled sound.

“Oh yes, Gabriel was always a mess as a fledgling,” it was easy to hear Raphael's grin, “I used to think he'd purposefully fall out of Heaven to play on the newly formed Earth, long before humans were created.”

The hands reached his shoulder blades—where Sam estimated the base of his wings sat. Fingers carefully stroked over the exposed grace with the precision of a surgeon. Sam's breath caught but he made no noise. The area was sensitive, but the touch didn't hurt.

“Of course, I knew almost instantly every time he left to go exploring. He was like a persistent little hummingbird—always buzzing and darting around me, never focused on one thing, and consuming vast amounts of sweet fruits.”

Gabriel laughed. “Man, I loved it when humans came along and invented candy. Cavemen made this amazing taffy-like stuff from honey that was divine.”

“Yes,” Raphael agreed, “You were nearly intolerable with it. There were several occasions I had to have Father remove sticky gobs of it from my wings because of you.”

“That's not true!” Gabriel gasped in mock outrage. “It was only one time.”

“You only heard about one time because you would take off before I knew what you'd done,” Raphael said as Gabriel laughed again, “You are just lucky I never made _you_ go to Father when we'd drag you back to Heaven covered in mud and twigs and whatever else you'd found to roll around in. I guarantee you would have experienced much longer lectures with Him than you ever had with me.”

Sam tensed when he felt the hands leave his skin to continue threading fingers through the grace floating outside his body. It was unnerving to recognize a new appendage—and it was suddenly much easier to do so. While the grace within his body was now calm, his wings were getting worse. Static crawled across them, shooting sparks of energy back down his spine.

Castiel leaned in closer, “ **You are doing very well, just keep breathing deeply. Having your raw grace touched can be unpleasant. Do you wish to sleep for this part?** ”

Sam's eyes flew open and he shook his head. The only thing worse than submitting to an angel's healing was being unconscious while it happened. “ **No! Please no sleep,** ” he begged.

The hands on his wings stopped, and one moved to rest again on Sam's shoulder. “ **Hush, child. No one will make you sleep, I promise.** ” More grace poured around him and the hum grew louder. It almost made him feel like he was in the back of the Impala on a Summer's day. Raphael's knuckles rubbed the tension out of his shoulders for a few minutes before returning to his wings.

“Well, I think your lectures were lengthy enough,” Gabriel mumbled after a moment of silence. Sam snorted at the petulant tone. The hand at his left ankle reached up to tickle behind his knee. His leg kicked out on reflex. Luckily, his muscles were mostly mush at that point and didn't do much.

“ **Gabriel, quit being a menace!** ” Raphael's fingers moved methodically through the wings, adjusting flow-patterns as he went. The grace responded gradually, settling as it allowed the changes. “I am not so sure my words had any impact—as soon as you were cleaned up and bored, you'd be gone again. When Father announced that He would be making fledgling seraphs, I was horrified by the prospect of having to keep track of entire host of little Gabriels.”

“Hey now!”

Raphael ignored the outburst. “Luckily, it turned out Gabriel was...unique. The new fledglings were much calmer and better behaved.”

“Until Gabriel got involved,” Castiel chimed in. Sam cracked open one eye to see his friend grinning toward the Trickster.

Gabriel's warning of, “Don't you dare start, Cassie!” was drowned out by Raphael's deep, rolling laughter.

“Precisely, brother! Once he was old enough to help, Heaven's nursery had to be safeguarded against all the mischief he encouraged. And there was a _lot_ of mischief Gabriel encouraged.”

Sam smiled at the image of Gabriel teaching baby angels how to play pranks on the other archangels. He wondered if any were brave enough to try their shenanigans on Chuck too. Closing his eyes, he mumbled, “Sounds like fun.”

* * *

The humans joined the conversation with Dean demanding to hear specifics. Raphael half-listened as Gabriel launched into a story that seemed to contain more incriminating details than anything exonerating. Castiel occasionally whispered things to Samuel. The boy's laughter was the best sound he'd heard in ages.

While the flock playfully bickered, the Healer modulated his own grace's resonance. He used it to sing directly to the young grace on wavelengths outside the human range. It was a technique he'd created in his early days as a caretaker—mostly during Gabriel's infancy, when the tiny typhoon refused to calm down. He had been amazed to learn humans had developed a similar method using the harmonies of singing bowls to activate different energy centers.

Raphael was willing to use ever tool at his disposal if it meant keeping the skittish fledgling calm. Never had he experienced such resistance toward healing from another angel, but he was starting to appreciate how difficult Gabriel's past two weeks must had been. The battle for Samuel's trust renewed with each passing minute.

When Gabriel had returned so quickly after flying away to answer Castiel's call, Raphael knew they'd been out of time. Watching the boy fight his own instincts was gut wrenching—an entirely new and uncomfortable emotional response for the archangel. The grace-soul had rolled with desperation through the whole ordeal. But Samuel forced it down, not allowing it to reach for any source of safety. Raphael could not tell if it was done consciously or as a preconditioned response. Either way, the willpower alone was daunting.

Samuel's behavior after consenting to healing had given Raphael pause. A single touch made the boy freeze, like prey spotted by a predator. Did he think the archangel would grab him by the burned wings? It confounded the Healer even more when the fledgling flew into a panic from being swaddled in grace. He prayed he never again witnesses an angel fight against their own instincts.

Humming softly, he was pleased to note how far the boy had come since they'd started. The young grace reached for him now, recognizing him as someone safe. He welcomed it, nourishing the curious nature hiding underneath a layer of nerves. As his fingers threaded through it, the burnt-smell grew stronger. Raphael could see clearly where the damaged portions had all been pushed to the ends of the budding wings. He exhaled—the grace was actually functioning as it should and in their favor.

 _What do you think? How bad is it?_ Gabriel's worry was palpable.

Raphael met his brother's eyes. _I have seen worse during war, but it is not great. His grace is trying to molt the burnt parts. Removing them manually will not be pleasant for him._ He leaned in closer and saw how quickly grace was trickling into the wings. _And it appears that his system is not properly maintaining itself. His levels are rising too quickly._

 _Yeah, that's an everyday thing for us. If he doesn't use it a lot, it builds up. If he gets upset, it builds up and shocks anyone too close. He's learned how to release it himself, but I still have to step in when it happens too fast._ Gabriel grimaced.

Raphael filed that away to contemplate in depth later—for now it helped him to better understand Samuel's current situation. _I need to remove the damage, and place a protective layer around the exposed grace. It is only a temporary solution, though. Samuel will have to be trained to do it himself as soon as he is recovered._

Angels naturally developed the barrier around their grace within their first few years of life when they were barely more than a tiny ball of light. For Samuel to learn this all while embodied on Earth was unprecedented. He only hoped the fledgling would accept him as a teacher.

“Your grace is very strong, Samuel,” Raphael said, gaining everyone's attention, “It has done most of my work for me. What I am going to do is remove the damaged grace. It may hurt a little, but I will be careful and work fast. Alright?”

Samuel's head raised slightly off the pillow, “Yeah. Go ahead.” He sounded nervous but resolute before burying his head in his arms again. Everyone else looked to the Healer in anticipation.

Raphael allowed his grace to build in his palms until they glowed with pure white light. Even though he had done this many times before, it was still a delicate procedure. If he encountered anything more than a slight tangle or catch, he was ready to act.

Starting at the base of the wing, he drew his fingers through the entire length of healthy grace. He was pleased to find it no sign of the previous restless rage. It now flowed calmly and unhindered by blockages. He focused on the border of the burn.

Molecule by molecule, Raphael severed the dead grace from the wing. Pieces fell off into his hand as easily as a dried leaf from a branch. He incinerated them with a thought.

Samuel stayed silent through the whole process. The only sign of discomfort were the beads of sweat that had formed along his hairline. When Raphael reached the final part, he had to give it a little tug. The boy's muscles flinched and he heard Castiel quickly whisper reassurances. The decayed grace vanished, and Raphael let out a sigh.

“I have finished removing all the damage,” he said, still grooming through the wings, “Rest now. I will place a seal around your wings so they can't interact with the physical world. You have done very well, child.” There was a long pause before he saw a slight shake of curls as Samuel nodded. Raphael frowned in concern and looked to Castiel.

The seraph echoed his worry. _He won't look at me,_ he said silently. Propping himself up more on his elbows, Castiel lifted the boy's face with gentle fingers. “Sam, are you alright?”

Raphael leaned over and saw the strained expression surrounding glassy hazel eyes. His face was red, streaked with sweat and possibly tears. Samuel didn't seem to hear him at first. Castiel repeated the question while pushing the drenched curls off his forehead. The boy slowly blinked and focused his eyes on the seraph without answering. Raphael did a quick scan, but found almost everything healed.

“ **Samuel, what is wrong?** ” Castiel tried in Enochian.

Samuel cleared his throat. “I-I'm okay,” he rasped.

“Are you in pain?” Castiel asked. It was obvious something was still affecting the boy.

“No. Not really. It...it just,” he broke off, sighing, “It felt like...”

“Like what?” the seraph pushed.

“Soul-touching,” Samuel murmured, rubbing his face against the pillow. “I'm good now. It just took me by surprise.”

Raphael looked to Gabriel for an explanation. The younger archangel winced. _He's had plenty of experience with having his soul touched—even outside of the cage. Lucifer tried to kill Sam that way a few months ago._

The Healer's eyes flashed with understanding. He grounded himself, steadying his emotions before the fledgling picked up on them. It would be unfair if Samuel had silently endured the healing only to be undone by Raphael's anger.

“We are almost done,” he promised, replacing his hands on the boy's back. Raphael returned to humming as he coated the shapeless wings in a layer of his own grace. He ran open palms over the surface, safely barricading them from the physical world.

The effect was almost instant—Samuel's body shivered once, then melted into the pillows as most of the tension drained away. “ **Thank God.** ” The words were muffled, but audible to the angels.

Raphael smiled, and felt the relief of everyone in the room. He ran his hands a few more times over the wings before gently folding them against the boy's back. They may not have 'feathers' yet, but they would soon enough. It took time to form the intricate pathways required for flight.

His hands stroked down the wings and along Samuel's spine before returning to his shoulders. Repeating the motion, Raphael channeled more grace as he began a light massage. The welts and bruises peppering the boy's skin faded with each pass of his hand. He worked the healing energy deeper, to the bruised grace, and heard it purr in response.

As he finished, Raphael adjusted the grace-wrap to alert him to any changes. It would provide steady heat and energy to the boy's system while he rested. “ **There we go,** ” he whispered, pulling the blanket all the way up to Samuel's shoulders and smoothing it down against his sides, “ **All done, little one. You sleep now.** ”

“M'no'tr'd,” Samuel slurred, turning his head enough to talk. Raphael frowned and tried to interpret his words. A glance at Gabriel proved fruitless—the younger archangel just shrugged.

Dean sighed with a soft laugh, “Yes, you are. Go to sleep.”

“Mm'not!”

“Yes, you are. Go to sleep.”

Raphael smile fondly—the boy sounded so much like Gabriel. Standing carefully from the bed, he waved Dean over to take his place. Sometimes, little brothers just needed their big brothers.

 _I know what you're thinking!_ Gabriel's voice invaded his thoughts. He turned to see his brother scowling. _Your face is all...gooey._

 _I believe your imagination has made you delusional, my dear Gabriel._  
  
Samuel blinked, his eyes heavy. “No, I…”

Dean slid onto the bed and fussed with the blankets. “You what? Need to do laundry? Research?” he scoffed. “I hope it’s something that doesn’t require more effort than drooling, because I don’t think you could scratch your own nose right now.”

Samuel’s face scrunched up comically. “Jerk...now my nose itches.” He rubbed it on his pillow, unconsciously proving Dean’s point by failing to use his free hand.

Raphael stood by the doorway as the hunter stretch out alongside the fledgling. Gabriel appeared by his side, too lazy to walk across the room. They continued to watch the brothers in silence.

“Quit snotting on your pillow, and go to sleep,” Dean combed his fingers through the younger boy curls.

“M’not...”

Dean brought his hand down to gently rest over Samuel’s eyes, quieting him. “Dude—sleep.”

Samuel mumbled something.

“Yeah, Sam, I'll stay,” Dean said, getting comfortable.

Tiny fingers peeled Dean's hand away from his face. The hunter allowed it, grinning when the boy didn't let go. They rested their hands between them on the pillow.

“'s'too?”

“Yes, Cas will stay too. Won't you, Cas?” Dean said. He sent a seraph a look that dared him to say otherwise.

“Of course I'll stay,” Castiel said, looking startled and still holding the fledgling's other hand. He shifted slightly, then asked, “Did you mean in the bed?”

“Yes, he meant in the bed,” Dean whispered fiercely before his brother could answer, “Lay down all the way. He's already got a hold on you—you may as well just get comfortable. And if you wake him up, then you are responsible for getting him back to sleep, capiche?”

“I...capiche.” Castiel turned wide eyes on the archangels by the door.

Gabriel threw him a thumbs-up. _You're doing great, baby bro!_

Raphael elbowed the younger archangel, earning himself a glare. _It is promising to see Samuel has bonded so closely with you, Castiel. You are a wonderful caretaker._ He grabbed a folded blanket from the foot of the empty twin bed and shook it out over Dean.

 _I told you, Cassie. You missed your calling when they made you a soldier,_ Gabriel said.

Raphael looked around the room, his eyes landing on the Winchester mother. She was sitting on the twin bed, leaning against the wall with her eyes closed. He smiled and made his way over to her. With care and a little grace, he eased her down on the bed and covered her with another blanket.

Turning around, he saw Castiel staring up at him. After a moment of hesitation, Raphael placed his hand on the seraph's shoulder. _Savor the beauty of this moment, Castiel. Even if he remains a fledgling for centuries, it still won't be long enough._

Gabriel lowered the lights and sat on the sofa. Raphael checked on Samuel again and was relieved to find him sleeping. Once everyone was adequately covered in blankets, he settled in next to the other archangel.

_Lollipop?_

A brightly colored chunk of sugar on a stick was shoved under his nose. Raphael felt one of his eyes twitch. It was going to be a long night.


	4. I Took You By the Hand, and We Stood Tall

Castiel marveled at the tiny fingers clutching his hand. Sam's grip had not relaxed since falling asleep four hours ago. In fact, the boy had not moved at all in that time. Castiel wondered if that was normal. In his previous observations, the only time Sam slept this deeply was when it verged on the edge of unconsciousness.

_I can hear you thinking from over here, Cassie._ Gabriel's voice whispered in Castiel's mind. The archangel had been unnaturally silent since sprawling across the couch.

Castiel tried to look over his shoulder, but gave up. It would require him to let go of Sam, and Dean had strictly warned him against such action. _I am amazed at Sam's stillness. It is not his usual sleep behavior._

The crinkling of a candy wrapper came from Gabriel's vicinity. _I'm not surprised the kid's crashed. The healing alone was enough to knock an adult angel out. Combine that with the events of the past couple days? Sam is due for a coma-level sleep._

Castiel conceded the point, but it was still unnerving. His gaze moved from the child's face, soft in sleep, to the grace wrapped tight around Sam's entire being. It glowed with all their combined energies—emerald swirled with gold and sapphire. And underneath the swaddling layers was the light of Sam's own grace pressing as close as possible against the brilliant colors.

Pure contentment flowed through their bonds. The feeling echoed back to Castiel from both archangels. They were all still pushing tiny amounts of grace into the wrap, and it was enhancing their natural mental connections. He couldn't remember a time he'd ever felt _more_ like an angel than he did in this moment.

Raphael moved toward the bed. He had maintained his vigil by the doorway like a stone sentry, but now he came into Castiel's line of sight. The Healer's steps were slow as he studied Sam's sleeping form. His face revealed a deep concentration and heavy thoughts.

Castiel frowned, his worry spiking as he quickly scanned Sam, fearing he'd missed some change. _What is wrong?_ he asked when he found nothing amiss. There hadn't even been a fluctuation in the boy's temperature since Raphael had finished healing him.

The crevices carved into the archangel's ancient face deepened as he seemed to consider his words carefully. _Since my creation, I have been personally involved in raising every angel through their fledgling stage—until now. Samuel has only known my touch in moments of extreme pain and fear. He does not recognize my songs. Nor does he trust what he should instinctively know. Everything he does is counter to my expectations and experience._

Gabriel snorted. _Get used to it. Sam only has his human experience to draw on. And most of his life was crap. Everything he knows tells him not to trust people who claim they want to help. Angels are probably at the top of that list—right above demons._

Raphael radiated discomfort at the idea. _I would accuse you of exaggerating if I had not seen it myself. He has an amazing amount of willpower, but a skewed sense on how it should be applied. The combination is dangerous in one so young._

_The Winchesters' determination has become well-known to this world over the years,_ Castiel said with a sad smile. _I have seen them overcome many obstacles and enemies on that trait alone._

_How often has that been to their detriment?_ Raphael asked.

_About as often as it's been their salvation,_ Castiel answered honestly.

_Pig-headed, stubborn humans!_ Gabriel interjected fiercely, but his tone way betrayed by the flood of fond affection. _Taking on archangels and Auntie Amara with nothing but big sad eyes and a fucking speech._ _And you are just as bad as the brothers, Cassie.  Dad above, you three are stupid!  I swear, sometimes I love you idiots so much it makes me want to puke.  
_

Castiel froze. To speak of love so freely did not happen in his world. Heaven had lost the language of love eons ago, and the Winchesters stumbled their way through affection with clumsy half-hugs and alcoholic peace offerings. They had improved lately—Mary's presence and Sam's transformation meant a lot of things from the past were being revisited. Old wounds were beginning to heal. But for Castiel, declarations of love were rare.

He swallowed hard and kept his eyes on where Sam's fingers dug into his vessel's skin. _Well, if we are a flock of fools, then you should feel right at home._

_Yes, he should,_ Raphael said as he sank down on the empty twin bed. Castiel looked up to find himself on the receiving end of the Healer's warm gaze. _All of you stood against convention to stay true to your convictions—and all of you have suffered great consequences. Isolation, pain, judgment. The burden of being responsible for the whole world is a heavy weight to bare alone. I can honestly say that you all deserve each other._

Gabriel sniffed loudly. _Yeah? Well, you make me want to puke, too._

A few years ago, Castiel would have questioned Gabriel's word-choice. Vomiting was not something he'd associated with an abundance of love. But he knew better now.

Love overwhelmed to the point of discomfort, yet he clung to the sensation. It tore his insides apart, unbalancing a lifetime of training and expectations. He loved his siblings, but it was a love bound in duty and rooted in the distant past. It paled in comparison to what Castiel felt for the people gathered in this small space.

_I do not quite understand your phrasing, brother. But I love you as well,_ Raphael replied.

Gabriel chuckled softly. _Give it time—the longer you spend linked to your vessel, the more you'll feel emotions on a physical level. Sometimes, it's unpleasant._

_So I am discovering. I have always been more an observer of humanity, but there were occasions when I walked among them._ Raphael rubbed a hand over his chest like it ached. _I do not remember it being like this when I took vessels before. It was uncomfortable, but never so...visceral. I cannot say I see the appeal._

_Meh, it'll grow on you,_ Gabriel assured him. _Fair warning though—you shouldn't tell the Winchesters that you don't see the fun in being human. From what I've seen and heard, they'll just try to introduce you to_ more _human experiences until you find something you enjoy. Or until your reactions stop amusing them._

Raphael's head tilted in amusement. _What does that entail, exactly?_

_It will mostly center around tasting food and drink. They can also be particularly sensitive to reactions toward their favorite musical selections._ Castiel answered, grimacing at memories of Dean getting offended over having his music questioned.

_He really just means “don't piss Dean off over his classic rock or he'll make your life a living hell,”_ Gabriel clarified and Castiel rolled his eyes. _Don't you roll your eyes at me, Cas-a-fras!_

Raphael chuckled softly as Castiel tried glaring over his shoulder at the younger archangel. _I never thought I would hear you lecture a seraph on using a gesture_ you _invented._

_Oh please! Like Cassie got any of this from me._ The couch squeaked and soft footsteps smacked across the floor. Gabriel's small form stomped all the way to stand in front of Raphael. Castiel expected him to aim a tirade at the Healer and was surprised when Gabriel turned to face him instead. It made Castiel want to flatten his vessel lower into the bed, like an archangel couldn't see through some pile of pillows. _Don't get me wrong, Raphael—I totally had my eyes on the little tyke back in the day. So serious about everything, but not cold and disconnected. Curious enough to ask questions with no concern for anything other than gaining knowledge. How could I not want to foster that into something a little more...fun?_

Castiel felt the sincerity of his words through their bond, and it kicked up a cloud of confusion in his mind. Gabriel had singled him out as a potential student? Partner in crime? When? Why? It made no sense.

_What is he doing?_ Raphael asked Gabriel while staring at Castiel.

Gabriel let out a huff and plopped on the bed beside Raphael. Pulling a sucker out of the air, he leaned wearily against the older archangel as though unable to remain upright. _He's working himself into an existential crisis. It happens a lot around these three. Especially if you challenge their self-perceptions._

Raphael's eyes turned sharp on Castiel, and the seraph wondered if Sam felt this exposed around other angels all the time. They stared at each other for almost a full minute before Raphael broke the silence. _Gabriel, why did you wish to mentor Castiel?_

Gabriel smiled and tilted his head back to look up at Raphael. _Because he reminded me of you. And you always needed more fun in your life._ The smile slipped away. _But then Lucifer...I knew I had to leave. There was no way to predict Heaven's response, and no guarantee the flock wouldn't find me within a day or two anyway. I had to go alone._

The silence was heavy. Castiel focused on checking Sam again to make sure the emotional conversation wasn't bleeding through their grace. He was still in deep sleep, but his grace now shifted lazily along the wrap. Calming his own inner turmoil, Castiel laid a hand on top of Sam's head and sent him feelings of peace. He hoped some of it reached Gabriel.

_That was excellently done, Castiel._ Raphael sounded pleased and slightly surprised.

_Thank you. Sir._ Castiel replied without looking up. This Raphael was a stranger to him, overshadowed by the person he became long before the apocalypse. That person had been cold and empty, a shell that contained nothing but power. Now, though, Raphael exuded something that Castiel had only recently started to associate with Gabriel.

Gabriel snorted. _Sir? You never call_ me _sir. Not that I want you to start!_

_I assure you, the thought never crossed my mind._ Castiel mentally mumbled.

_Do you hear that, Raphael? That's what I'm talking about!_ Gabriel waved his arms in Castiel's direction. _All that sass and it didn't even come from me,_ he ended on a pout.

_And where, pray tell, did young Castiel learn all your most cherished traits?_

_Where do you think? The Winchesters took responsibility for corrupting him like it was their life-mission,_ Gabriel explained.

Castiel frowned. _The Winchesters did not corrupt me, Gabriel._

_Really?_ Gabriel gave him a slow grin that made him uneasy. _So Dean_ didn't _take you to a brothel?_

_What?_ His jaw dropped in surprise. Of all the things, how did Gabriel even know about that?

_Are you denying it?_ Gabriel leaned forward with narrowed eyes.

_What?!_ Castiel repeated. _How—?_

_Sam tattled on you,_ the archangel said with a wink. _You calling the new baby a liar? That's pretty low, Castiel. I'm disappointed._

_No! I...That's not what..._ Castiel felt himself get flustered, caught between a rock and a hard place.

_A brothel?_ Raphael asked, clearly amused.

_It...It was the night we summoned you into a ring of holy fire. We did not expect to survive. Dean was very concerned I would 'die a virgin' on his watch._ Castiel avoided the archangels' eyes.

_Man, you guys love doing that, don't you?_ Gabriel shook his head.

_Love_ _what?_ Castiel scoffed. _De-flowering virgins or walking knowingly toward certain death?_

_Yes. Both. But I'm mostly talking about trapping your siblings in holy fire so you can talk to them._ Gabriel teased, but there was an undercurrent of seriousness.

The whole topic had Castiel on edge. He shifted on the bed, wishing he could stand up and move around. _I do not believe either of you would have been very willing to speak with us otherwise. Besides, I was not involved in your capture, Gabriel. You kept me from interfering in that lesson by locking me away in a pocket universe._

_True._ Gabriel sighed and flopped against Raphael's side again. _It wasn't my best moment._

_I do not understand the significance of 'dying a virgin' on Dean Winchester's watch._ Raphael shook his head.

Castiel pressed his face into the pillow and groaned.

They fell into a comfortable silence after that. It lasted a solid hour when Castiel felt the change—Sam's breath hitched before it changed to quick, shallow pants. The boy furrowed his brow and tried to curl onto his side without letting go of anyone's hand.

Recognizing the onset of a nightmare, Castiel called out, _Gabriel!_ They were rarely given the chance to prevent Sam's sleep terrors, but Gabriel had proven to be the fastest and most effective at deterring them. The archangel's power and experience working within human minds far exceeded Castiel's own.

There was a rush of wings and he felt the end of the mattress dip down. A glance showed the archangel crouching at Sam's feet. Raphael stood up and leaned over Dean, two fingers extended like a priest offering benediction. The Healer's grace glowed, igniting the space with light.

_Raphael, pull it back,_ Gabriel ordered and there was instant obedience. _If Sam wakes up mid-nightmare, this grace-wrap may be a problem. Cut it down to the bare-minimum so it isn't a shock to his system if we have to undo it quickly._

The brilliant colors encasing Sam dimmed, fading down to a faint shimmer. It seemed to ease some of the tension building in the small body, but it caused the boy's grace to stir at the change. Castiel pushing the curls back from the scrunched up face, whispering, “Shh...”

Castiel's mind caught bursts of images and emotions, and he heard Gabriel gasp.

_Metal bars lit by a red glow. Cold, sharper than ice against skin, freezes lungs and burns eyes as empty laughter echoes. A man's voice saying, “You think we left them alive...the man who bore the Mark of Cain and the thing wearing your dead mother's body?” Fear and numbness war for dominance._

_Oh Dad,_ Gabriel said as he laid a hand on Sam's leg. _Talk to him, Cas. He likes your voice best._

_That's not true. He prefers Dean._ As though summoned by his words, Castiel saw the hunter raise his head and blink at them.

“Wha's goin' on?” Dean slurred, still mostly asleep. He swung his head around to the angels all hovering over the bed.

“Sam is having a nightmare,” Castiel whispered. “We are trying to keep him from waking.”

Dean's focus immediately went to his brother. The boy had sweat beading along his brow, and he was making little grunts behind thin, trembling lips. Sighing, the hunter swung his right arm over Sam's curled form and pulled him closer. Castiel felt the sharp fingers dig into his palm and allowed his arm to follow them across the bed.

Sam shook his head, eyes clenched shut, just on the verge of waking up. “Dee...” he mumbled in protest.

Dean made shushing noises and helped him turn until the small body was nestled into his side, half-draped over his chest. “Sleep, Sammy,” he said into messy hair. His left arm curled up to rest as a heavy, reassuring weight along Sam's side.

The move dislodged the boy's hold on Castiel's hand. He stared down at the tiny half-moon impressions left behind. Before he could begin mourning the loss of contact, Sam's arm reached out blindly and closed around the bottom corner of the trench coat. With one determined tug, the boy wrapped the tan fabric around himself and melted back into sleep.

“Welcome to life as Sammy's security blanket,” Dean said as his eyes drifted closed. He was out before Castiel could ask what that meant.

_Well, that was exciting._ Gabriel's words were flippant, but his tone was shaky.

Castiel kept an eye on him while carefully rearranging the pillow pile. The archangel remained crouching in the center of the bed, looking troubled and lost in thought. _Are you alright, Gabriel?_ he asked as he scooted closer to the brothers. It was a relief to be able to sit up and see the whole room.

There was a flutter of wings and Gabriel appeared standing next to Raphael. _Not really, Cassie._ He wiped a hand over his mouth. _Did you pick up on any of his dream?_

Castiel looked down at the Winchesters. He could only make out a tuft of curls and pink toes peaking out of from under his coat. _Yes,_ he answered simply and adjusted the coat to cover Sam's toes. There was an echo of cold that lingered from the dream—a sense of nakedness and a strong desire for protection.

_What is it, brother?_ Raphael asked, resting a hand on Gabriel's shoulder.

_I think...I think I'm going to get the laptop you found._ Gold eyes, blazing with anger, stared unseeing into the distance. _I want to know why.  Why they took him, what they did to him, who the fuck they thought they were to even touch him. You know, just the basics._

Castiel nodded, understanding the fury. _It is in the trunk of the Impala._

_I'll take the long way 'round,_ Gabriel said. He met Castiel's eyes for a moment before glancing briefly at Raphael. An eyebrow rose, asking if he'd be okay.

Warmth filled Castiel, easing the simultaneous rush of nerves at being left alone with Raphael. But they needed to talk, and now was as good a time as any. _Be sure you do nothing damaging or disorderly to Dean's car. He can forgive a lot of things—that is not one of them._

_Don't worry! I'm not gonna mess up your boyfriend's wheels._ Gabriel flashed a lascivious grin.

_Gabriel!_ Castiel snapped, but the archangel was already out the door. Laughter bounced around the hallway, and Castiel had to tamp down the desire to childishly slam the bedroom door shut with his grace to block the sound out. The satisfaction wouldn't be worth waking the Winchesters over a petty spat.

_I am not certain Heaven could have withstood a mentorship between you and Gabriel._ Raphael's words made Castiel's head snap around, expecting to find criticism. Instead, he saw amusement. _You two would have reigned down chaos for eons._

Castiel dropped his gaze to the bed. _Yes, well, I ended up reigning down enough chaos to make up for my early obedience._

Raphael sighed. _If you are looking for judgment, you will not find it with me, brother. It is neither my place nor my right._

Surprise surged through Castiel and he looked again at the archangel. Raphael had a calm, almost stoic, expression on his face. But the emotions crowding their open bond were anything but serene. Regret and self-loathing left a sour taste on Castiel's tongue and fed into his own similar feelings. _Would it fall to Michael?_ he asked seriously.

This was not a scenario he'd considered. With authority in Heaven restored, would they see his crimes as warranting action? It had not been a question with Gabriel—they'd been too focused on Sam's transition, Mary and Gabriel's resurrections, and the daily crisis that came with life in the bunker. Besides, Gabriel had no desire to act as an administrator in Heaven when there was a fledgling in need on Earth.

_No, Castiel,_ Raphael answered slowly. _Father has forgiven us for...well, many things. Everything._

_He told you that?_ Castiel asked, frowning.

The archangel tilted his head. _Yes, He did._

_I do not understand. Why would that change Michael's judgment?_

Raphael moved around the bed and sat by Castiel's feet, facing the seraph. _It changes everything. Father has never offered forgiveness to any outside humanity, although I suspect He started that process with you._

_But..._ Castiel trailed off, at a loss for words. That couldn't be right.

The Healer smiled knowingly. _Until recently, y_ _ou were the only angel Father ever resurrected. And I understand it was not a one-time event._

_I may have been resurrected more than once, but that is not the same..._ He shook his head.

_Not the same as forgiveness?_ Raphael finished gently.

Castiel clenched his fists. _He never spoke to me. After Amara evicted Lucifer from my vessel, Chuck refused to even acknowledged my presence. That—_ He broke off, swallowing around the rising pressure in his chest. _That does not feel like forgiveness._

_What does it feel like, Castiel?_

_It feels like failure._ He had refused to think about it until now. The absolute indifference Chuck showed toward him was too painful. Dean's spontaneous declaration of brotherhood and kinship had tethered Castiel, keeping him from spiraling with the rejection. But the dismissal still hurt. _It feels like I was given a test over and over, and I failed to pass every time._

_Brother..._ Raphael's voice sounded devastatingly sad.

_It does not matter,_ Castiel lied and looked down at the sleeping brothers, fussing with their covers to keep his hands busy. _I already chose the Winchesters over Heaven a long time ago. Having Gabriel here, helping Sam with his grace—I never thought I would experience living as an angel again._

_Do you fear that will be taken away?_

Castiel blinked rapidly, willing away the rush of panic. He had long been operating outside the control of Heaven, excluding the few times he'd assumed command himself. _Yes, but I do not deny my crimes, nor Heaven's right to justice._

_If everyone guilty of crimes against Heaven were convicted, there would be no one left to claim that right to justice._ Raphael rested his hand on Castiel's leg, quieting his troubled grace. _We are all guilty. And we have all been forgiven. Our task is to move forward, to reconcile our past by working with purpose toward a new future. That future includes you, Castiel._

Slowly, Castiel raised his head to meet the archangel's gaze. _Does it also include me being permitted to remain with the Winchesters?_

Raphael serene expression morphed into a frown. _Would you honestly allow yourself to be removed? Willingly return your full service as a soldier to the armies of Heaven?_

Castiel knew the answer before the question was done being asked. _No._

_Good! I am glad to hear that._ His face broke into a grin. _Otherwise, you would be having this discussion with Gabriel, and he would not take kindly to a member of his flock leaving without a fight. Especially to the likes of Michael._

Castiel felt like he was dreaming. Was Raphael _teasing_ him? Their conversation had taken a bizarre turn somewhere, and now he was a little lost. _I sincerely hope it does not come down to me fighting Michael. I would stand no chance of winning._

Raphael patted his leg and sat back. _You are officially considered assigned to Gabriel, as a member of this flock. It is a unique role—flocks have never before contained an archangel, a fledgling, or humans. Now, there is one with all three. You are pioneers of a new age._

Laughter bubbled up in his throat, but Castiel managed to contain it. How anyone saw them as “pioneers of a new age” was beyond him. “Group of outcasts barely surviving by the skin of their teeth” seemed like a better description. _I weep for those who look to us as an example for anything._

_My apologies, Castiel, but I believe Gabriel is correct—you and I are very alike. We share many traits, and those similarities are reflected in our mistakes. But I have learned something recently._ He reached forward and wrapped his weathered hand around Castiel's fist. _I have learned that forgiveness allows for change. I saw it in our Father—Amara's forgiveness changed Him. He is no longer running from the guilt and pain caused by locking away His other half. I saw it in Michael and felt it in myself, when our Father forgave us. Remembering who I was meant to be and being granted the chance to try again is a gift. Who are we to deny you the same gift and opportunity?_

“ **Will you? Really?** ” Castiel whispered aloud, the words too important to share in a thought.

“ **Brother, I have already forgiven you,** ” he said just as softly. “ **Can I dare ask for any in return? My failures have been destroying Heaven for eons—long before I targeted you specifically. The ripples of my mistakes tore these humans' lives apart, and the lives of so many others. I can never undo what I have done.** ”

“ **No, neither can I,** ” Castiel agreed solemnly. “ **But is that not the purpose of forgiveness? Mercy—for that which we ourselves can never atone. As you said, who am I to deny you the same?** ” Raphael squeezed his hand, and Castiel felt a wave of gratitude. He wasn't sure if it came from the archangel or himself.

Footsteps in the hall broke the moment, and Gabriel appeared a second later with the laptop. He halted in the doorway at the sight of them on the bed, his golden eyes wide. _Am I interrupting? Because I can leave and come back later..._

_It's fine, Gabriel,_ Castiel reassured him. _We were just clearing the air._

* * *

Gabriel studied his brothers, debating whether or not to believe them. There was tension in the air, but it was fading into hopeful, excited energy. He knew these two had a complicated history—most of which occurred after his own death.

_Okay. If you say so._ He set the laptop down on the coffee table and sank onto the sofa. The walk through the bunker had helped settle the immediate rage, but the anger was still there. It simmered just below the surface, as though it knew he was about to find more inciting material.

Sighing, Gabriel opened the laptop. It had no power cord, but that wasn't a problem. One of the benefits of existing among humans as they developed technology was being able to use it. He'd made it a point to become an expert in as many fields as possible—computers and cooking were two of his favorites to learn.

He trailed a finger along the side of the keyboard, checking for damage and surprise warding. Small amounts of water had seeped in through the vent, but it was easy to fix. He started the computer with a thought, pushing in just enough power to fully charge the batteries. A loud “beep,” followed by a short melody, rang through the silence.

Gabriel cursed and stabbed at the mute button next to the built-in speakers. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Raphael stand up and move closer.

_Is it...supposed to do that?_ Raphael asked, brimming with curiosity. He sat beside Gabriel on the sofa to get a better look at the loading screen.

_Yes, grandpa, it's supposed to do that,_ Gabriel answered sarcastically, elbowing his brother in the side to move him back. _Get your head outta my way before your halo fries the motherboard._

Raphael jerked back and moved a few inches down the sofa. _Is this far enough away?_

Gabriel chuckled quietly. _Yeah, you're good. I was joking...kinda. If you don't know how to use your grace around human technology, it can mess with it. I'm guessing you don't have a lot of experience dealing with computers._ He began to work his way through the system, typing commands with confidence. There were some newer protections he was unfamiliar with, reminding him that technology had advanced since his death. But it didn't take him long to shred most of the barriers.

_No. I stopped paying attention when they began the Crusades._

That made Gabriel blink. _Why? Didn't like the show anymore? Someone kill off your favorite character?_

_At the time, I no longer cared. There was too much death, too much despair. Humanity was rotting, our Father's message lost._

_And the Messenger missing,_ Gabriel added with a grimace.

_My brother was missing. My little hummingbird and constant companion was missing. I lost interest in my studies because every time I sat down, I expected to hear you buzzing in my ear. After a while, it became...too much. I turned my focus elsewhere._ Raphael shrugged, nervously smoothing down the fabric of his tunic.

_Well, color me surprised!_ Gabriel felt flustered, caught between guilt and pleasure. _Who would have thought I made a good study buddy?_

Raphael looked over at the bed and relaxed with a small smile. _Just wait until you've had that little one over there chattering away on your shoulders for a century or two. The moment that noise stops is the moment you know something bad is about to happen. It usually involves hours of grooming and lectures because you'll be too flustered to do anything else._

_Sam is prone to both finding and attracting trouble._ Castiel interjected, earning himself a glower from Gabriel.

_Like we needed reminding. He couldn't even go for a walk in the damn yard with an archangel by his side!_ He tried to tease through the spike in irritation, but he knew some had still bled through when Castiel tensed. Gabriel exhaled and reached again for his calm.

Raphael's wing brush against his shoulders, steadying the younger archangel. _It was not your fault, Gabriel. No!_ A finger flicked Gabriel gently on the nose before he could disagree. _Do not interrupt me. The man had an impossible weapon—something he should have never known existed. This was not a reflection on you._

Gabriel rubbed his nose. _You are such a weirdo, Raph._ As soon as he dropped his hand, the finger flicked his nose again.

The screen went dark on the laptop, distracting Gabriel from seeking revenge. He reached for the keyboard when a window popped up. _Oh, shit! I'm in._ He carefully assessed what they were dealing with. _Not too bad. Looks like the British Men of Letters works over their own client portal. Sweet Dad above, we can actually search their database by creature name. I don't know if they're arrogant bastards or shitty geniuses. Either way, my job just got a whole lot easier._

_They have access to a portal?_ Castiel sounded horrified. _I hadn't heard of computers providing gateways to other dimensions. Is this common practice or limited to rare exceptions?_

Gabriel stopped typing to stare at his brothers. _Are we even related? I mean, I can kinda understand how Raphael missed a millennium of human invention. But you, Cas? You've been down here for years with one of the biggest nerds on Earth. How did he not teach you better?_

_He taught me how to Netflix,_ Castiel said, sticking his jaw out stubbornly, _and Google._

_Did you just use the word “Netflix” as though it were a verb?_

_Can it not be used the same as “Google?”_ Castiel asked.

Gabriel paused. _I don't actually know. English is weird. I'm surprised it hasn't completely changed since I died._

_People use emojis a lot more now,_ Castiel said brightly.

_Returning to hieroglyphs. Interesting choice, humanity..._

A folder name grabbed Gabriel's attention. It read, “PROJECT: HALO” in bold letters. He rolled his eyes at the predictability of stupid people.

He clicked on it and felt his rage return full-force. The folder was overflowing with documents—orders for the agents sent to the US, a detailed observation log covering the period of almost a month, full dossiers on each Winchester and a couple dozen people tied to them, photographs spanning the boys' entire lives.

Gabriel scanned them all quickly, ignoring Raphael's attempts to cool his rising anger as he saw pictures of _his_ flock laughing around the firepit. Sam had told them during the ride home that the Brits had been watching the bunker, but this was extensive. And it all happened with an archangel present.

The most recently updated file proved to be a series of videos. He searched the time-stamps and started the earliest recording. The archangels both watched, frozen, as a room appeared on the screen. Raphael sucked in a breath.

_What? What is it?_ Gabriel asked without looking away from the video. He turned the sound back on, dialing it down to its lowest setting so it wouldn't wake anyone. A woman appeared in front of the camera, which seemed be the laptop itself. She was typing on a keyboard that sat just below the range of the lens.

_That is the woman Michael took back to Heaven. And she is in the room where they kept Samuel._ Raphael explained, pointing to the tall metal bars of a kennel behind the woman.

Gabriel slowly nodded, taking in all the details now that he knew the room's significance. _Okay then. Let's do this. And everyone remember to keep our emotions under control. Sam doesn't need to wake up because we get pissed. There's a pause button—tell me if you need me to hit it._

They watched in silence. Gabriel knew Raphael was relaying the images to Castiel—he felt the seraph's horror grow in tempo to his own. He used his grace and computer skills to allow them to observe the day's worth of footage in about four hours—not including the three times they had to take breaks. By the time the explosion knocked the camera into static, all three angels were shaking.

Raphael stood, reaching past Gabriel to shut the laptop. _Enough,_ his true-voice growled deeply. Stepping past the coffee table, he walked out into the hallway. Gabriel heard him begin to pace and left him to it. He knew the Healer needed to process what he'd witnessed. They all did.

Looking at the bed, he felt his anger slightly dim. Castiel was hunched down on the bed, curling closer behind Sam as though bodily shielding the boy from what was on the computer. Or from the potential threat of two furious archangels. He ran trembling fingers methodically through the visible tufts of hair.

Gabriel rubbed his eyes and let his ire drain down to a manageable level. When he felt a semblance of self-restraint return, he stood and stretched his vessel. Slowly, he walked over to Castiel and sat against the headboard beside him.

_You okay?_ Gabriel asked after several long minutes of silence.

_I knew it would be bad, but that..._ Castiel shook his head without turning.

_Yeah, that was worse,_ Gabriel agreed, leaning more against the younger angel.

_What do we do now, Gabriel?_ Blue eyes finally looked at him. They were red-rimmed and shining with unshed tears, begging for an answer. _Sam has always been strong—much stronger than people credit him. But he was already struggling so much with the changes from his grace._

_We do what we've been doing, little brother. Sam finds comfort in consistency—needs it to feel safe._ Gabriel tugged at one of Castiel's wings until his brother allowed it to be extended. Settling back against the pillows, he started grooming to soothe them both. _So, we keep him eating, keep him sleeping, keep him talking. We take things a day at a time or an hour at a time, depending on what's needed._

_The things those people did and said to him though,_ Castiel looked at him skeptically, _I do not see how it can be fixed with chocolate milk or naps._

_Hey! Never underestimate the healing power of chocolate,_ Gabriel teased and pulled harder than necessary on the area he was grooming.

Castiel scowled which only made the archangel want to pinch his pouting face. _I am being serious, Gabriel. How will that be enough?_

Gabriel considered his answer as he studied the flustered seraph. _Cassie, I'm being serious, too. I know you guys all deal with world-ending apocalypses on a yearly basis, but most problems can_ not _be fixed by one giant solution. There's no pill, no spell, no miracle to take everything that's happened to Sam away. Not even Dad could do that. He gave Sam His grace to set him on a path. Each little step takes him further toward getting better, toward healing and wholeness._

Castiel looked thoughtful now instead of skeptical. _And those steps include chocolate milk and naps?_

_You said it earlier—Sam was already struggling. Most days, we see this kid questioning reality before breakfast. He wakes up not knowing if he's in the cage or alone in his own body. Hopefully, we can change that, but it takes time. And in order to get that time, he has to make it through each day. If we have to wrap him in blankets and sing until he feels safe enough to sleep, so be it. If we have to time-travel to find his favorite foods to make sure he eats, so be it. I will utilize all of my abilities to see that happen, because we can't tackle the big problems if pesky little things like physical health go untended._

_I had not thought about it in those terms. Both brothers tend to prefer decidedly unhealthy coping mechanisms, but I never considered the importance of the “little things” unless they had turned into major obstacles._

Gabriel snorted. _Spoken like a true Winchester, bro._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SOOO sorry this chapter took me a lifetime to finish.  
> I had some severe writer's constipation for this part. I always seem to hit a snag when there's less action smothered in fluffs.  
> On the plus side though, I ended up mapping out the next couple stories (that's right--STORIES, not chapters!) in detail!!   
> Rest assured, even if there's a delay in posting, I am hard at work on this universe <3
> 
> Thank you to everyone for reading, and for their comments and kudos!  
> This series just tipped the 22,000 hits mark, and I am WILDLY FLAILING IN GLEE!!!!!
> 
> SUPER SHOUTOUT to @nathyfaith for our daily conversations and mad beta skillz!  
> From serious meta to total crack-fests, it's always a blessing.


	5. Now I Cling To What I Knew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY!!! Explanations and ranting in the endnotes...
> 
> As always, eternal gratitude to my betas, ScrollingKingfisher and Nathyfaith!!!

Sam awoke in stages, floating to consciousness on a cozy cloud. He was wonderfully warm, his mind half-wrapped in sleep. His limbs were heavy and too lazy to respond, and for once it all felt fantastic. There was only peace and contentment.

He let himself drift until hushed voices caught his ear. They were nothing but quiet murmurs—sounds without meaning. He recognized one—it was coming from inside his pillow. His _moving_ pillow.

With a groan, Sam forced his eyes to open. He blinked several times before the haze lifted, making way for a healthy dose of embarrassment. At some point in the night, Sam had apparently moved from his platform of pillows to end up draped over Dean. His brother's left arm pinned him in place. The entire situation was impossible to escape without being noticed.

“Well, look who decided to join us,” Dean whispered, his voice still gruff from sleep. It didn't seem like he'd been awake for very long.

Sam tried to roll over but something solid was in his way. Pushing up onto his elbows, he looked over his shoulder to find Castiel sitting very close. “Hey Cas,” he started, then trailed off when he noticed how the angel's trench coat had been multi-purposed to serve as the brothers' blanket. In a room with more blankets than people, why on Earth was he wrapped in the corner of Castiel's coat? “Did something happen?” he asked.

“You started having a nightmare,” Castiel answered quietly, as though that explained everything. The angel helped Sam unwrap himself from the fabric and sit up.

“Umm, okay,” Sam said, looking to Dean for further explanation. Nightmares were not new—he'd had them his entire life. But they hadn't led to a damn cuddle pile since they were both little kids sharing a bed.

Dean shrugged and pushed himself up against the headboard with a grin. “You got a bit restless last night. At least you didn't drool too much.” Sam wiped his mouth automatically and Dean chuckled.

Looking around, Sam saw that Mary was fast asleep and the archangels were suspiciously absent. He stretched, noticing for the first time how different he felt. All of the pain was gone, but his body still braced for it when he moved. Rolling his shoulders, he was startled by the sudden vibrations in the center of his back.

Sam tried to see over his shoulders, but he could only manage to make out a faint glow. “What the...?”

“Do they hurt?” Castiel asked, leaning forward anxiously. “I've called—”

Gabriel appeared next to them in a cloud of flour. “What's wrong?!”

“Nothing's wrong,” Sam coughed and waved his hand to fan the flour away. “Were you in some kind of baking battle?”

“Oh God, my kitchen!” Dean croaked in horror.

Raphael flew in, completely spotless, and gave his brother a disapproving frown. “Really, Gabriel?” He waved a hand and the mess of powder disappeared. The Healer then turned to Sam with a smile. “Good morning, Samuel. How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Sam answered, trying not to shrink under the archangel's gaze. Now that Sam could access his grace again, Raphael was even more intimidating. In fact, the presence of the two archangels filled the room with power. The vibrations on his back thrummed, sending shivers down his spine and a heat across his shoulders.

“Ahh,” Raphael said with understanding before stepping back. He lowered himself onto the mattress and appeared to grow smaller.

“'Ahh' what?” Sam hated feeling like he'd missed something. He looked at Gabriel, reaching back between his shoulder blades. “What's happening here? It's weird.”

“It's just your wings moving around, kiddo.” Gabriel sat on the edge of the bed, nudging Dean's feet over. The hunter gave a halfhearted kick before relinquishing the space.

“Is this normal?” he asked. As his frustration rose, the wings shifted more. “Are they going to do this a lot? Move around all on their own? Because I didn't ask them to move.”

“Well..” Gabriel bit his lip. Sam stared him down until he answered. “They'll probably be doing that for a while—at least until you learn to control them. Right now, they're reacting to your emotions and thoughts on a kind of instinctive level.”

“What?!” Sam's arms flailed for a second as the wings almost toppled him over. Mercifully, Castiel grabbed his hand and kept him upright. “Are you saying I'm basically wearing a giant mood ring on my back?”

“ Don't worry, dude—I can't see your  _ mood wings _ ,” Dean said with too much cheer. “Which is really too bad, because I would pay money to see how those things interpret your bitch-face.”

The scowl Sam gave his brother was second nature. He wasn't expecting Gabriel to burst out laughing. “You're right, Deano. You _would_ pay money to see them.”

Raphael cleared his throat, and Sam found himself grateful to the older archangel for drawing the others' attention. “It is completely normal, Samuel. And you will learn to control them, but not until they are done forming. We can teach you theory and work on your other grace-related abilities, but your wings won't be flight-ready for a couple of weeks.”

Sam tried to smile but felt it come out more as a grimace. He couldn't help it—the grace already made his emotions sit on the surface. To know that everything he tried to keep contained inside was now going to physically manifest for any angel to see was one of his worst-case scenarios.

“I'm guessing they feel pretty different.” Gabriel leaned closer to get a better look at Sam's wings.

“If, by 'different' you mean 'like my spine is a guitar string being strummed,' then yes, I feel different.” Sam hissed in irritation when the electric hum sitting just under his skin intensified.

“That's a pretty accurate description. Now, does anything hurt?” Gabriel asked, growing serious.

Sam shook his head. “Not really. I mean, I'm not in pain like yesterday. It's just... _ weird _ .” He didn't know how else to convey how disconcerting it was to develop new limbs.

“That doesn't answer his question, Sam,” Dean said with a pointed look, “Don't get me wrong—I'm glad you're not hurting like you were yesterday, but considering the state you were in twenty-four hours ago, that isn't saying much.”

Sam pulled his right foot into his lap and inspected the sole. Fresh pink skin had replaced the seared mess, erasing all evidence of injury. He ran a finger over the smooth surface and was almost disturbed by the lack of discomfort. It was like the whole torturous affair had only been a dream. “No,” he finally said in a quiet voice. “It doesn't hurt at all.”

“What about your...back?” Dean pressed. The hunter was frowning in concentration, like he thought he might be able to see the wings if he stared hard enough.

“It's annoying, but not painful. I don't know how to explain it. Besides, I've barely moved in two days. I won't know how everything is doing until I've had the chance to walk like a person again.” He peered over the edge of the mattress at the ground. It wasn't that far, but the last thing he wanted to do was crumple to the floor on weak legs in front of so many attentive eyes. “Dean, can you...?” He held out a hand, hoping his brother would understand.

Dean looked skeptical. “You sure you're ready for walking when sitting is such a challenge?”

Sam kept his hand out, insisting, “My injuries were just fixed by three angels—one of whom is the most powerful healer in existence besides God Himself. I think I should be able to walk.”

“Alright,” Dean said, still sounding doubtful, “If you say so. Any objections from the God-Squad?”

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but stopped himself when he saw the archangels turn to silently confer with each other. Gabriel's face was almost comically fretful and he wrung his hands together as though preventing himself from picking Sam up. But his pleading eyes were met with calm amusement from the Healer who simply shook his head and smiled.

“Samuel is correct,” Raphael said aloud, “He can walk, Gabriel.”

Sam shared an exasperating look with Castiel who just shrugged as though to say, 'what can we do?'

Dean waited for Gabriel to nod before he gave in. “Alright, dude, just make sure you take it easy. Jesus, you don't even have socks. Where did your socks go?” Without waiting for an answer, he dug through the bedding until he found the one Sam had kicked off in the night. “I forgot you only had one on last night. You can't—”

“I swear, if you tell me I can't walk without socks on both feet...” Sam trailed off, unsure how to finish the threat.

The 'woosh' of wings sounded from behind him, and Sam turned quickly, fearing a new arrival. But worry turned to confusion when he realized Castiel had suddenly left them. They sat in silence, staring at the empty space on the bed where the angel had sat through the night, until a moment later when Castiel returned. He was carrying what appeared to be every bundled pair of socks that sat in Sam's drawers. “There is no use arguing over little things when there are simple solutions,” the angel said directly to Dean. The hunter's only response was an impressive eye-roll.

“Thanks, Cas,” Sam said. Somehow, Castiel always knew the right thing to do or say around him, and constantly supported Sam's decisions. He still wasn't used to it.

Castiel bowed his head and gave a brief smile. “You are welcome,” he said as he held out the socks. A few pairs tumbled off the top of the pile and landed on the bed. “I wasn't sure which pair you would prefer.”

Sam blinked through the rush of emotion. Why did the little things feel so important? The small decisions that gave him back control piece by piece—how did Castiel understand him so well? He nodded and reached for a pair that had rolled next to him.

“Give it time and you'll get used to having them. And once you learn how to use those babies, you'll love them.” Gabriel sounded so confident that Sam didn't have the heart to contradict him. “Are you hungry? I was teaching Raphael how to make pancakes. Spoiler alert—he's an old, old man who tried to stifle my creativity.”

“I did not try to stifle your creativity. I merely observed that the amount of sugar you wanted to add to the batter was obscene,” Raphael countered. “And need I remind you that I am not that much older than you, brother? You remain one of the oldest beings in all of creation—you have no room to brag about youthfulness.”

“For Dad's sake, Raphael. Don't say it like that! At least not in front of the kids. I'll lose all my credibility as the cool-archangel.” Gabriel winked at Castiel.

“I am not a child, Gabriel.” Castiel argued.

“Of course not, Cassie. You're a big-angel.” Gabriel patted Castiel's leg and stood up. “So, are you hungry?”

Sam thought about it and was surprised to find that he probably _could_ eat—which was unheard of after everything he'd just been through. He looked suspiciously at Gabriel. “Kinda. Did you do something?”

Gabriel shook his head. “Don't look at me like that! It's the healing—you used up a lot of energy the last couple days, and having that much grace-work done at once is even more exhausting. Your body needs replenishing now that it isn't focused on fixing itself. Come on, all of you. Let's give your mom some more time to sleep.”

“Too late.” They all jumped at the groggy voice that came from the other bed. Mary was slowly sitting up. Her tangled blond hair stuck out in every direction and there were pillow marks on her cheeks.

Mary in the morning was one of Sam's favorite sights now. She always seemed so put together through the day, but she woke up just as messy as everyone else. Sam thought she was perfect.

“Sorry. We didn't mean to wake you up,” Sam said sheepishly. Even after two weeks, he still felt a little lost around their mother.

Mary waved off his apology, yawning, and tied her hair up in a wild knot. “You're looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning. How are you feeling?”

“All better!” Sam said, putting on his best smile, and Dean snorted.

Mary rubbed the sleep from her eyes, then studied each person in turn. The only thing that would have made them look more suspicious was if Gabriel had still been coated in flour. “Really?” she asked, unconvinced.

“Why does she think you have a bushy-tail?” Castiel whispered to Sam.

“It's a saying—it means someone's alert and ready to go,” Sam explained, jumping on the change of topic.

Mary's eyes softened, and Sam suspected he was more transparent than usual now. “I think it's supposed to allude to a squirrel. You know, how they always look so excited and eager and happy as they bounce around.”

“I thought Dean was usually referred to as a squirrel.” Castiel sounded even more confused.

“Okay!” Dean stood abruptly. “Time for breakfast. I'm hungry. Are you hungry? Come on, Sammy.”

Sam clumsily crawled through the mess of blankets to the edge of the bed. His limbs were like cumbersome weights and caused him to pitch forward toward the floor. Hands instantly caught him.

“Whoa there, speedy,” Gabriel said, placing him carefully back on the bed. “Sorry, I forgot to take the rest of the grace-wrap off of you. Hold on. There you go.”

The heaviness dissolved, leaving Sam feeling weightless and dizzy as a rush of energy flowed through him. His senses sharpened and his mind became fully alert like he'd just chugged a whole pot of coffee. A casual desire for food grew to gnawing hunger and his stomach growled.

“Yup. Time for food. And I hope you showed up covered in flour because you cooked instead of the Doc,” Dean gestured at Raphael as he swung his feet to the ground. “I doubt he appreciates bacon like us.”

“Doc?” Raphael asked slowly, as though he were testing a foreign word.

“Isn't that what you are? The angel doctor or something?” Dean frowned.

“Ah, yes, I am known as the Healer, but it is more of a title.”

“Yeah, I'm not calling you that,” Dean said, shaking his head.

“You could call me Raphael,” the Healer suggested.

Dean just grunted and reached to take Sam's hands. “We'll see,” he mumbled.

Sam carefully slid to the floor. He still felt weightless from the wrap's removal and he barely noticed he was standing. The absence of pain left him almost numb. He kept his hold on Dean as he shifted his weight back and forth between feet, testing his strength and balance. “I think I'm good,” he said, letting go of his brother's hands.

Dean kept one in his grip, refusing to let Sam stand alone quite yet. “Uh huh, and what happens if you get startled and those wings knock you on your ass?”

“Then I guess I'll learn to live with a bruised butt.” Sam tried to tug his hand loose. “I thought that would be your favorite part about all this. Quit acting like you aren't going to be waiting with the camera and cheesy one-liners.”

“Puh-lease. No one here is learning to live with bruises while we're around,” Gabriel interrupted, gesturing at the other two angels.

Sam used the distraction to slip free of his brother and started walking toward the hallway. His heart beat faster just knowing everyone was watching him. If he could make it to his own room, then maybe he could lock the door and gain a few seconds of privacy.

“Dean, why don't we let your brother get himself dressed while we go check on the others. And I'm sure Gabriel wouldn't mind starting breakfast.” Mary gently, but firmly, directed the others.

Sam didn't dare glance behind him, but he allowed a sigh of relief to escape as he turned the corner and left the room.  He heard the rest of them give varying grumbles in reply before moving off in different directions.

A single set of footsteps drew closer.  Sam took a deep breath before turning to see who’d followed him. The tension building in his shoulders drained away when he saw Castiel.

“We're you sent to make sure I don't accidentally die putting on pants?” Sam asked.

“They are all quite protective of you,” Castiel said with a nod, not denying Sam's question. “It will probably continue until the memory of their earlier helplessness has faded. I cannot speak to Dean and Mary's experience of trying to reach you, but I do know that Gabriel and I...well, 'frantic' does not adequately describe our state.”

“Yeah,” Sam winced, knowing he and Dean tended to react when the other was in danger, “I'm used to Dean going a bit overboard after a bad hunt. But we've never had a whole group fussing over us before. It's, umm, a little much sometimes.”

“I think I understand.”

Sam looked up at Castiel. “You do?”

“As a soldier of Heaven, I grew accustomed to being invisible. 'Lost in a crowd,' as humans say. My superiors treated me as a tool, and when I strayed from my path, I was re-shaped to suite their purpose.” Castiel pushed Sam's door open to let them in, then closed it behind them. “Some of my early memories were lost to Heaven's reprogramming. I only have a vague sense of how Heaven used to be before Lucifer's fall. And even then, I was considered a loner.”

“And now, you have two over-bearing big brothers who want to coddle you at every turn?” Sam asked.

“Gabriel has been easier to adjust to—he has always been different from the rest of the flock for his playful and creative nature. But Raphael...” Castiel trailed off, shaking his head, and sat on Sam's bed with his back turned for privacy.

Sam grabbed clothes at random and quickly stripped. “Yeah, I can see how that could be awkward. You guys didn't have the best history, what with killing each other and stuff.”

Castiel huffed. “He says he forgives me.”

“Do you doubt him? Like he's lying to get you on his good side?” Sam started as his heart picked up speed again.

“No,” Castiel said, bewildered, “I know he is sincere.”

“Then why do you sound like someone just told you Santa Claus is real?”

“He also said our Father forgives me.” Castiel's voice dropped to a near-whisper.

“Oh.” Sam paused with only one leg through his black cotton pants. They were similar to adult workout clothes and one step above pajamas—perfect for lounging around post-injury. He shook his head and rushed to finish so he could face Castiel. “That sounds...heavy.”

“Yes, it is,” the angel's shoulders sagged, “especially considering He never said anything to me while He was here.”

“Yeah, that's weird. My dad was kinda the same way.” Sam grabbed the gray sweater and walked around the bed to stand in front of his friend. “Dean said that Dad would secretly check up on me when I went to Stanford. I spent four years thinking he'd wiped my existence from memory. He did things like that all the time—send vague messages through Dean and assume I'd understand he loved me.”

“Our Father left after Lucifer fell, but He never really spoke to the seraphs. There was a rigid hierarchy in Heaven, and few ever strayed from their place to interact with others.” Castiel gave Sam a sad smile. “After spending so much time searching for Him, I guess I had hoped for more than a message sent through another.”

“I'm sorry, Cas.” Sam laid a hand over the angel's arm.

“Thank you, Sam. And I am sorry too. You deserved better from John.”

“Yeah,” Sam whispered, blinking rapidly. He felt the thrumming between his shoulder blades just as he was thrown forward into the bed. The air left his lungs with an audible 'oomph' and he grabbed hold of the blanket for balance.

Castiel chuckled, and Sam would have glared if he thought move wouldn't cause him to fall. The vibrations grew sharper and he wished he could scratch them. A hand came to rest on the top of his back, just above where the wings seemed rooted. “These are very expressive, aren't they?” Castiel's smooth tones carried a hint of amusement.

“ What are they  _ doing? _ ”  Sam groaned.

“Manifesting your irritation,” Castiel answered simply. His hand kneaded into the tense muscle, then moved down to run over the wings. The thrumming instantly stilled under his touch and Sam huffed into the mattress.

“Do they look as ridiculous as they feel?” Sam tried to joke.

“No more so than any emotional expression,” Castiel tilted his head in contemplation of the question. “Do you think I look ridiculous when I smile? Does Dean when he cries?” The wings flared against the angel's palm, and he again calmed them.

“I don't mean...” Sam drew away, worried he'd offended Castiel, but there was only concern and understanding in those blue eyes. “No, of course you don't look ridiculous, but there's still an element of control there. You could easily not smile. And Dean only cries when things are at their worst—like end-of-the-world bad. Normally, we suppress things until we can have our breakdowns in privacy.”

“I am constantly amazed by human limitations when it comes to emotions.” Castiel shook his head. “One of the hardest lessons I had to learn was how to express myself in a human vessel. It is very different for angels, as you are just now learning. We share everything through our grace, and there is a shared unspoken language built around nuance and harmonies, gestures and colors, all of which does not register on the physical plane as you know it.”

“But I don't know any of that unspoken language, Cas. I may have been turned into some kind of angel, but I didn't get a handbook with instructions. This grace doesn't feel like it's part of me—and I definitely don't feel like an angel.”

“I cannot imagine how this has been for you,” Castiel said as he continued to slowly run his hands over the agitated grace. It felt so different from Gabriel's grooming sessions or when Raphael had worked on them the night before. Sam wondered if all the angels would start petting him now. “When I became human, the adjustment was not easy. It took me weeks to recognize and name my physical needs—hunger, exhaustion, and a full bladder were things I knew of conceptually but not personally.”

“I'm so sorry, Cas. You should have never had to be alone while...”

“Sam, you were hardly in a position to change the situation,” Castiel cut him off. “The point is, learning to be human was much easier than it was learning how to be _not_ an angel. I felt blind and deaf and mute. And so very, very small.”

“Oh, I'm feeling pretty small here too,” Sam said wryly.

Castiel returned it with his usual half-grin. “That is true. You are the first angel to have a physical aspect to their true-form. And I have no doubt that you will be a fast learner when it comes to using your grace.”

“Remember when my biggest goal in life was to be as normal as possible?” Sam sighed wistfully.  


“And now you are unique among all of creation.” Castiel said with a raised eyebrow.

“Pretty much.” Sam rolled his shoulders, but his wings remained still. Maybe his grace just needed him to vent a little. “Am I good to put on a shirt now? I've never been a walk-around-topless kinda guy.”

“Yes. The fabric won't interfere with your wings now that Raphael has sealed them.” He ran his palm one more time over the grace before pulling away. “We should hurry—I do not want to leave Gabriel and Raphael alone too long. Dean would never forgive them if they destroy his kitchen.”

* * *

“I will never forgive you if you destroy my kitchen. Got it, short-stuff?” Dean stared down the archangel with the authority of one who'd fought with designers of the universe—and won.

“Whoa there, bring it down a few notches! I promise the kitchen is in perfect condition, Deano.” Gabriel crossed his vessels heart and held up three fingers in the Boy Scout sign.

“Only because _I_ cleaned it when you flew off,” Raphael casually mentioned.

“Which I knew you would do, you predictable old coot! Who cares how it got done?”

“Gabriel...” Dean started, but cut off when the archangel raised a finger for silence.

Gabriel looked in the direction Sam and Castiel had gone, listening for a moment. Whatever he heard seemed to be reassuring and he turned to them with a serious expression. “Before Sam comes back, I wanted to let you know that I hacked into the Brit's laptop last night.”

Thoughts of the kitchen evaporated, his mind switching immediately into hunter's mode. “And?” he demanded.

“And it's not pretty. They kept detailed notes and video logs of Sam's captivity. I wanted to let you know before we talked to Sam about it—give everyone a chance to get their rage out. When we have our routine grooming session later, y'all can check it out. I figured we'd give the kid some time to settle before we ask him anything.” Gabriel glanced toward Sam's room again.

“ Why do we need to question him?” Dean paced, the need for action building. His fingers itched to get hold of the laptop so he could  _ know. _

“We don't need to question him,” Gabriel said slowly, staring at Dean like he was a riddle, “He needs to talk about it.”

“What, like a therapy session?” Dean snorted. He may joke about Sam's love of chick-flick moments, but neither of them were big on sharing their personal pains. They usually only tolerated the emotional scenes together when it directly concerned the other brother—wrongs they had done, confessing lies and manipulations, or their too-frequent 'last conversation before certain death.'

“Yes, like a therapy session.” Gabriel crossed his arms. “I know you guys aren't big on discussing your feelings, but this wasn't exactly a skinned knee. Were you...were you _not_ planning on talking to him about it?”

“I dunno.” Dean shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable with everyone's overly concerned eyes. “We've got a routine.”

“Involving copious amounts of alcohol?” Gabriel asked.

Dean opened his mouth, shut it, then opened it again. “I didn't say our routine wasn't in need of some revisions.”

“That's putting it mildly.” Gabriel smirked. “Tell me again how you managed to talk my Dad and His sister into reconciling?”

“Because he has a blunt tongue, a bold heart, and a sharp eye,” Raphael said. “Which are good traits when dealing with our stubborn Father. But your brother may need a gentler approach.”

Dean took a deep breath, taken aback by Raphael's description. “I...I was gonna give him some space. Stick to the basics for a couple days, make sure he eats and sleeps, see how he behaves. If I saw something off, we'd sort it out.”

“You will not have to 'sort it out' alone,” Raphael reassured him, firmly clasping Dean's shoulder, “You have us and there is time to form an actual plan.”

Dean's eyes stared at the hand touching him, then looked up into the archangel's kind face. “Uh, thanks, I guess. But I'm not the one you have to worry about.”

“What do you mean?” Mary finally spoke. He's seen her silently watching them from where she still sat on the edge of her bed.

“You think it was hard to get him to drink a glass of milk last night?” Dean looked at each of them in turn. “Give it a day or two. You ain't seen nothing yet.”

Before anyone could respond, Gabriel half-jumped in place. “Oh, they're almost done and I haven't finished breakfast! Last one to the kitchen does the dishes.” He snapped and disappeared.

Mary rolled her eyes and got up. “Come on. You can try to keep him out of trouble while I go check on Jody and the twins.”

“Thanks for giving me the easy task.” He joked, nudging her lightly with his elbow as they walked into the hallway. He didn't expect her instant retaliation in the form of a solid hip-check that sent him bouncing into the wall. “Woman!”

“Don't start something you can't finish, young man,” she wagged her finger at him as she breezed past.

“You know, technically I'm older than you!” Dean called after her.

“That's nice dear!” she called back without turning around.

Dean stopped in his tracks, staring at her retreating form. He searched desperately for a better comeback, but she was gone before he could form words. Instead, he leaned against the wall outside his brother's room and grinned. It was little moments like these that drove home the reality of their mother's return and he loved it.

“She is a very interesting woman,” Raphael said.

“Ah!” Dean jumped, forgetting the archangel was still there. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph—don't _do_ that!!” he yelled, clutching his chest and glaring up at the towering figure. How had he never realized how tall Raphael's new vessel was?

Raphael's expression turned concerned and he took a step forward. “Are you alright?”

“No, I'm not! You gave me a heart attack!” he swore under his breath and hoped Sam hadn't heard the undignified squeal. “I swear, if I have to train the whole damn host...it took threatening Cas with a bell if he didn't quit sneaking up on me for him to learn.”

“A bell?”

The door to Sam's room opened, cutting off Dean's response. Castiel stood there, eyeing the two with a blend of worry and suspicion. “What—”

“Everything's fine,” Dean snapped, “I'm putting bells on all your brothers.”

Castiel's gaze darted to Raphael, and he relaxed with understanding. “Ah. I see,” he said with a nod, “You do realize I have thousands of siblings, right? It will take you a lot of time, and bells, to get them all.”

“Then I guess I better start now,” Dean shot back.

“Nice scream, Dean.” Sam teased from Castiel's side. “For a second, I thought you might have been turned into a kid too. Or a banshee.”

“What was that?” Dean asked, crouching down to Sam's level. He cupped his hand behind his ear for effect. “I couldn't hear you from way up there. You said you want juice instead of coffee at breakfast this week?”

“You wouldn't...”

“In a sippy cup?”

Sam's scowl changed so quickly Dean almost dropped their game. The familiar frown gave way to another well-known, more disarming tactic. Enormous, watery eyes peered up at Dean through curly bangs as Sam chewed on his bottom lip. Damn it but the kid had perfected his routine before he'd left diapers.

“Don't you dare...” Dean started, trying to ward off the surge of big-brother instinct that always accompanied such a look.

Sam shifted his eyes to Castiel and dialed it up to an eleven. “Cas...” he said in a small, pitiful voice.

Dean turned to the angels and knew they were already lost causes. Whatever they saw when they looked at Sam had made them useless piles of mush. He didn't know Castiel's face could be so soft. Flicking Sam's nose to get his attention, Dean warned, “If you play the cute-kid card, then I will carry you around and make you take naps.”

They stared each other down until Sam eventually relented. The kid rolled his eyes and sighed. “Fine. Truce.”

Dean smiled in victory, secretly grateful—his knees were about to give out from crouching so long. “Yeah, sure. Come on. We gotta make sure Gabe hasn't destroyed my kitchen.” His joints cracked loudly when he pushed himself to standing. Sam smirked at the sound, but wisely kept his mouth shut about it.

They walked slowly to the kitchen, all of them letting Sam set the pace. Dean hung toward the back of the group so he could observe his brother. So far, the kid seemed alright—a little shaky at times, but he only stumbled once.

The playful banter and teasing let Dean know that Sam was trying to put everyone at ease. It was usually Dean's tactic, but Sam had used it when he thought others might worry. And while Sam-the-Smartass-Comedian was a hell of a lot better than Curled-in-a-Corner-Terrified-Sam, it was still a mask.

He'd actually expected his brother to be more shutdown than anything. Then Dean would be focused on slowly drawing Sam out of his cocoon. If Sam was this feisty so soon after being kidnapped and tortured, it usually meant they'd be dealing with fast-changing mood swings. He'd be surprised if Sam didn't have at least one angry outburst by dinnertime.

The sound of laughter and jazz poured out of the kitchen as they walked in. Everyone was awake and gathered around the center island. A feast of comfort foods arranged in bright-colored bowls was spread out on the table. It was like walking into a New Orleans street cafe.

Gabriel, with a skillet in each hand, juggled pancakes from one surface to the next in an amazing feat of dexterity and timing. His eyes lit up when he saw them enter. “We were just about to send a search party!”

Dean ruffled Sam's hair, making a bee-line for the coffee. “Someone isn't as tall as he used to be. You have to compensate extra time for a six-year-old's gait.”

Sam snorted and lightly kicked him in the back of the heel. “And someone isn't as young as he used to be. We had to wait to make sure he'd be able to stand from a crouch. He may need one of those LifeAlert buttons on a necklace in case he's alone one day and can't get back up.”

The laughter was deafening.

Dean sent a mock-threatening glare at his brother who responded with a cheeky grin. His mind flashed to the previous morning—Sam's face streaked in grime, eyes red from smoke and tears, barely able to speak. Turning, he prepared his coffee with his back to the room, trying to push the images from his mind.

“So, you're Raphael, right?” he heard Alicia ask.

“I am.” The low bass of the archangel's voice rumbled through the kitchen clatter.

“Oooh,” the twins shivered in unison. Dean glanced over his shoulder to see Max rubbing his arms to get rid of goosebumps. Alicia had her hand over her mouth and was staring in wonder.

Gabriel yelled something in Enochian that made Castiel and Sam look amused, and slightly horrified, as they waited for the older angel's response. Raphael's voice fell even deeper when speaking the ancient language. Gabriel rattled off more unintelligible words.

Whatever was said had Sam snorting. “Dean's gonna bring you some 'glad tidings' if you don't switch back to English, Gabriel.”

Gabriel just laughed. “Heaven forbid Dean Winchester do something angelic!” He clapped his hands as though he didn't already have the room's attention. “Alright, everyone. Here's the thing—this space is a bit too small for all of us, plus dishes. Do we want the war room or outside by the fire? Say the word and I'll move the feast.” He raised a hand and waited for an answer.

Dean looked at Sam. The kid was using Castiel as a partial shield, standing just behind his trench-coat. He would have rolled his eyes at Sam's childish behavior if it weren't for the fact that Dean was ready to duck behind Castiel too. Team Free Will was still adjusting to the addition of Mary and Gabriel—nine people in the kitchen made him antsy.

Sam's nervousness grew, his gaze fixed on the floor to avoid making the decision. But was it the overcrowded conditions or the prospect of going outside that was putting him on edge? Dean couldn't tell without at least eye contact.

“Is it warm enough to go outside?” Jody asked.

Gabriel wiggled the fingers of his still-raised hand. “Umm, archangel, remember? Phenomenal cosmic powers include temperature control.”

“And an ‘itty bitty living space?’” Jody continued the line.

“Did you both just...” Alicia started.

“ ...quote Genie from  _ Aladdin? _ ”  Max finished.

Gabriel answered with a wink.

“Outside. Fresh air might do us some good,” Dean decided before someone burst into song. He glanced at Sam and worried he'd chosen wrong. His brother was unconsciously clutching the coat tail. Well, it was too late to change his vote now—it would only draw more attention to Sam. He'd keep an eye on the kid and they'd make a retreat back inside if things turned bad.

Gabriel's eyes darted to Sam, taking in the change. Nodding at Dean with a slightly forced smile, the archangel waved his hand and the made the food disappear. “Outside it is! Come along, youngsters. Have you seen my sweet firepit yet? Never burns out. I don't think those boys even knew they had a yard back there before I came along...” He hooked an arm around Jody and Alicia's waists, leading them out of the kitchen. The others followed close behind them, letting Cas and the brothers fall to the back.

“You good, Sam?” Dean muttered.

Sam let go of Castiel's coat, shoving his hands into his pockets instead. “I'm fine. As long as it's warm,” his smile was thin and fake, “and there aren't any more of those banishing bombs.”

“Oh.” Dean stopped walking. _That_ was what had Sam so anxious—he feared being attacked again? But they had experienced so many other terrible things at the bunker, and Sam hadn't avoided those areas. Had he? Dean couldn't remember now. “Do you wanna stay here? We could make Cas get us plates and binge some _Hobbit_ and _Rings._ ”

Sam finally met his eyes only to slap him with a strong scowl. “Cas isn't a servant. We aren't making him do anything—especially get our food. Besides, I was just joking.”

“You sure? I don't mind sta—”

“Dean, stop.” Sam interrupted.

“Stop what?” Dean asked, bewildered. Forget dinner—at this rate, they wouldn't even make it to breakfast without a major meltdown.

“Stop babying me!” Sam snapped.

“I'm not!” Dean's voice rose in response. He looked at Castiel for back up, but the angel was studying Sam.

“You are, and it's weird. Dude, we were _snuggling_ when I woke up. That is _not_ _normal_!” Sam's cheeks blazed red.

“Newsflash, Sam—nothing is normal about our lives!” Dean gestured around them with his arms. “In case you missed it, our home is a bunker. And of the nine people who woke up here this morning, two are witches, two are archangels, four have grace, five have killed or been killed by another person present, and six have been resurrected at least once. No one here has any claim on 'normal!'”

Sam's shoulders hunched and let his breath out slowly. “You're right. I'm sorry,” he whispered. “Everything's a little disorienting this morning. It's...hard.”

Dean nudged him with his toe, but Sam didn't lift his head. “It's cool, man. And if the, umm, 'close sleeping' thing,” he refused to say 'snuggle,' “bothered you, then we can wake you up instead. I was just trying to let you get as much sleep as possible—you needed it.”

“Hm,” Sam grunted, sounding uncomfortable and only half-listening.

“Okay, Sam.” Castiel knelt down behind Sam, moving his hands like he was tracing patterns in the air. It took Dean a second to realize he was doing something to Sam's wings...which were apparently spread like a cloak across the kid's shoulders. Sam made a frustrated noise and Castiel huffed a laugh. “Yes, they are as stubborn as you.” His hands seemed to gather the wings together and pressed them against the spine. “We can discuss it with Raphael. If there is any truth to Gabriel’s stories, then the Healer was Heaven’s most stubborn angel. He should know what to do.”

Dean watched as the edginess gradually drained away and Sam's shoulders lifted. Hazel eyes, full of unspoken apology, met his own. Dean ruffled Sam's hair in a show of absolution. “We better get up there before Gabe does something stupid, like try to teach the doc how to flirt.”

Sam choked on a laugh, his eyes going wide.

Castiel frowned in sudden suspicion. “Do you understand Enochian better than you let on?”

Dean blinked at him. “What?”

“Oh,” Castiel blinked back, “I thought...nevermind.”

“You thought what?” Dean demanded, but the others started walking away.

“So what's with the name thing?” Sam asked over his shoulder, his mouth twisted in a failed attempt to hide his amusement.

“What name thing? There is no name thing. Did you both get high earlier?” It took less than two steps to catch up. Gone were the days when Dean struggled to keep up with his towering brother. The new snail's pace was turning out to be a harder adjustment.

“Well, now I _know_ there's definitely a name thing,” Sam scoffed.

“I thought it was simply Dean's predisposition for giving people nicknames.” Castiel's head tilted in consideration.

Dean took it as a sign of his own great self-control that he didn't smack the tilt out of the seraph. “I do not have a pre-whatever for nicknames. It just happens.”

“So,” Sam said as his grin turned mischievous, “it has nothing to do with the fact that Raphael was your favorite Ninja Turtle?”

“What?!” Dean cursed his voice for cracking in betrayal. “That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard.”

“Sure it is. Don't worry, your secret is safe with us. I'm sure Raphael would never pick up on your thoughts and wonder why a giant man-turtle in a red mask is floating around in your brain whenever his name is mentioned.”

“Whatever. At least I wasn't a lame geek who loved boring old Donatello.” They reached the bunker's entrance and emerged into the brisk morning air. Dawn light filtered through trees and patches of fog. Laughter echoed from the other side of the building and they slowly walked toward the noise. “In fact, Donatello the Ninja Turtle reminds me an awful lot of Raphael the archangel. Hmm...maybe you two were destined to become besties.”

Sam didn't respond immediately. As soon as they'd crossed the threshold to the outside world, the kid had started casing the area. His eyes moved constantly, sweeping from the treeline to the road to the sky. Dean moved closer, wedging Sam between himself and Castiel. It worked—Sam took a shuddering breath and was able to keep talking. “I dunno. Maybe.”

“Of course, by the same token Gabriel would obviously be Michelangelo,” Dean continued, knowing Sam usually jumped at the chance for some nerd-talk.

“Does that mean Michael would correspond to the leader, Leonardo?” Castiel asked with deadpan seriousness.

Dean and Sam stopped walking, turning in sync to stare at their friend. “Metatron gave you Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles references?” Dean almost felt bad for the douchey angel's demise. Almost.

“Yes, although without cultural context the references are practically meaningless. It is confusing.” Castiel looked at Dean. “Can turtles even eat pizza?”

“I am so sorry, Cas,” Dean said, placing his hand on the angel's shoulder. “We have clearly neglected your education.”

As they made their way to the back yard, the smell of food mingled with the fresh forest air. Dean's stomach growled loudly, making him wish he could scoop Sam up and run to the food. But his brother would complain and likely do something painful in retaliation, so he was forced to tolerate the gnawing hunger for several long minutes.

Gabriel sent him a smirk when they drew closer, and Dean had a sneaking suspicion that the archangel had heard their conversation. “Come on,  _ dudes.  _ We almost started without you.”

Dean groaned while Sam laughed.

The food was spread across a newly-extended picnic table. Several coffee carafes had been placed among the dishes. Steam rolled up from the table carrying enough savory scents to make Dean's mouth water. He made a bee-line for the area that held his recognizable favorites and sat down. Everyone else slowly drifted in to fill the bench seats.

Dean was so distracted by the perfection of the fried potatoes that he almost missed Sam struggling to get on the bench next to him. They were near the end of the table, and it looked like Sam was intending on using him to shield against the crowd. But that was cool—he understood. The only times they ever ate around this many people were when they happened to be in a diner surrounded by strangers. He scooted over a few inches to give Sam more room as Castiel took the end seat across from them.

Without saying a word, Dean poured Sam some coffee. Gabriel passed down a plate full of fresh fruits and eggs. Sam whispered his thanks as everything was placed in front of him, then promptly attacked the food with gusto. Dean tried to answer him, but his mouth was crammed full of hot cinnamon roll goodness.

The meal had barely begun when Dean felt Sam tense. “Sam?” he asked quietly, not wanting to gain everyone's attention.

“What is that?” Sam directed the question at Castiel. He sounded disgusted, and it put Dean on edge.

“Well, well, well, what have we here? A breakfast party in the garden, eh? Shall I assume my invitation was lost in the mail?” The newcomer stood at the head of the table, just inches away from Sam and Castiel. His impeccable black suite was out of place among all the casual clothes and pajamas and rampant bed-head.

The hair went up on the back of Dean's neck as the energy around him spiked. “Oh, Crowley. You _really_ should have called ahead.”

* * *

 

**(BONUS: ENOCHIAN CONVERSATION BETWEEN GABRIEL AND RAPHAEL)**

“ **Are you flirting with the humans, Raphael?”**

“ **I do not see how confirming my name constitutes a flirtation.”**

“ **Careful, brother—they are sensitive and you are using your 'I Bring You Glad Tidings of Great Joy' voice.”**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all. First of all, a huge THANK YOU to everyone for the comments and encouragements and messages. They have been wonderful and kind and kept me writing this past month (several months, now). Life has been pretty crazy the last few weeks in particular and writing was impossible some days. My mom's health is really bad right now and she's in a rapid decline. I won't vent too much bc I have a tendency to over-share once I get started...but things may be a little rocky the next few months. Which means I'll either end up writing a million new chapters to escape it all, or I'll stare blankly at my screen for hours each day before giving myself over to Mass Effect Andromeda to escape it all. Let's just say that "it all" includes me, a woman engaged to a woman in the south, working out funeral/will arrangements for my mother, all while surrounded by her Literal Neo-Nazi family. Good times. I hope y'all can handle the angst/fluff levels this entire situation will create for this series...  
> Second of all...I don't have a second of all. Except to say thank you again to all my readers. You are all keeping me vaguely sane and strong. So thanks...


	6. I Won't Die Alone and Be Left There

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had some requests for more Mary, so here ya go! A whole chapter from Momma Mary's POV <3

Mary took her seat next to Castiel. It placed her across from her sons—both of whom still looked tired and tense after hours of sleep. To be honest, she felt the same.

The life of a hunter was rarely calm. She understood going days without rest, riding the adrenaline and caffeine-fueled high until the panic passed. And 'crisis-mode' often lasted much longer than the crisis itself. The scenarios changed when she shifted from hunting to motherhood, but the intensity grew when it involved her babies.

Dean's first serious fever as an infant had scared her far worse than any supernatural creature. She remembered how the late night trip to the emergency room left her feeling helpless. There was nothing to do but wait, praying the medication and I.V.'s worked. By dawn, the fever broke and they returned home. But the fear stayed with her for days, and resurged with every new crisis.

Sam had gone missing for twenty-four hours, and another full day had now passed since the grand rescue. But Mary's hands shook as she stirred her coffee, and her heart refused to slow. Knowing what she did about Sam's history, she kept expecting him to break. Of course, she kept expecting herself to break as well—had been waiting for it since the moment Dean told her the year was 2016.

“You doing alright?” Gabriel asked from her left. She hadn't even noticed him sit down.

“Yeah,” Mary said, her voice a little too breathy to her own ears. “Just feels a bit surreal, maybe. All of us having a fairy tale breakfast in the forest after...everything.”

The archangel nodded and bit into a berry tart. Juice dripped onto his chin, staining the skin purple. Motherly impulse had Mary taking a napkin to his face without thinking. Amber eyes went wide in surprise.

“Oops.” Gabriel said around a mouthful of pastry.

“Sorry.” She gave him a sheepish smile. “Cleaning up after the boys in my life has become habit over the years.”

“I can imagine—Winchesters always make the most impressive messes!” He looked fondly at her boys, as though he felt immense pride at the memory of those messes. Then, his face fell. Gold light glowed from his eyes as they turned sharp and alert.

Mary's heart raced as she heard her youngest ask, “What _is_ that?” in a voice full of revulsion.

A strange man appeared at the end of their table. His clothing spoke of wealth, as did his nonchalant behavior. “Well, well, well, what have we here? A breakfast party in the garden, eh? Shall I assume my invitation was lost in the mail?” His British accent rolled through the tense silence.

The air itself grew charged, and Mary imagined this is what it felt like right before lightning strikes. Gabriel's muscles coiled tight, practically trembling by her side. She felt the energy building where their shoulders touched. Castiel's body braced, but he didn't seem about to launch into battle—more like preparing for an explosion.

Whoever the newcomer was, he clearly presented a threat. Mary's attention went immediately to her boys. Sam sat only inches from the man, but he didn't look scared. Instead, his nose was scrunched up like he smelled something awful. But it was Dean's relaxed, semi-amused response that really gave her pause.

“Oh, Crowley,” the hunter said in a tired voice and shaking his head, “You _really_ should have called ahead.”

An explosion of wind and earth erupted around the table as three other people came crashing in. Each carried a silver blade in their hands. Mary didn't have time to ask if they were angels or who the man even was—before she could blink, the three had the man on his knees with one on either side and one behind. They held him there and looked to someone behind Mary.

She followed their gaze to find Raphael standing with a silver staff held firmly in his hand. He walked slowly toward the front, his eyes never leaving the man on the ground. The man stared back, his eyebrows raised in surprise as he turned to take in the others at the table.

“Oh, you boys have some explaining to...do...” he trailed off when he got to Sam. “Moose?”

Raphael waved his hand and a wave of energy pushed the man and his three guards away from the table several feet. “You will not address him, _demon,_ ” he said in a deceptively calm voice.

The man let out a laugh. “My, how times have changed. When exactly did Heaven's finest start caring about the Winchesters?” He turned to Dean. “And why are you having an outdoor breakfast at dawn with a bunch of angels? Is there another apocalypse? Jesus, boys—learn to space them out a bit! It's been less than a month since the last one!”

The man's lack of intimidation in the face of so many powerful beings confused Mary. As did the angels' aggression and her sons' relaxed response. Wait, what did Dean call him? She'd heard that name from the boys once or twice. “You're Crowley? 'King of Hell' Crowley?” she asked him.

His eyes flashed red. “Been talking about me, have they? Did they leave out the part where I _saved their asses?!_ ” His voice rose at the end, changing from playful to indignant. “Someone tell me what the _bloody hell_ is going on!”

Dean sighed heavily and stood up. “Alright, everyone, calm down. As hilarious as it would be to watch you guys smite him, he was an ally against Amara. I'm sure he'll be on his best behavior now that he knows he's got _two archangels_ right here to keep an eye on him. Won't you, Crowley?”

“Two—?” Crowley broke off, cursing in a language Mary didn't recognize. For the first time, she saw a hint of fear on the demon's face. He gave a shaky smile. “Best behavior, absolutely. Does that need to be in writing or can I stop kneeling in the dirt? I should know better than to wear my good suites when I drop by—they always end up ruined.”

“Yeah, yeah, poor you,” Dean said to Crowley before waving his hands to shoo the three unknown angels away, “Good job, you saved us all. Now, let him go and you get back to your perches. Danger's over. We'll take it from here.” He dropped his hands and rested one on the back of Sam's head, pulling him to lean closer.

Mary saw the boy's face and felt her breath catch. His expression was so open and raw as he stared at the angels. All the fear and tension she'd expected him to show toward Crowley was now radiating off the tiny figure. Sam seemed frozen in place, unable to even blink as he waited to see what the angels would do.

Two of the angels didn't move, but shifted their gazes to Raphael again for direction.  The woman standing behind Crowley addressed the archangel in Enochian. There was a silent pause and Mary felt the entire table hold their breath. Finally, Raphael nodded and replied. Whatever he said had the angels reluctantly releasing the demon. They each glanced at Sam once before disappearing.

Crowley stood, brushing the dirt from his knees. “I swear, you boys...”

Mary didn't see Raphael move, but he was suddenly in front of Crowley with his hand wrapped around the demon's neck. “You will not address them,” he repeated in a deep rumble, “You will not touch them. You will state your business _to me_ , and then you will leave. You are not welcome here.”

“Whoa there, Doc!” Dean called. “It's cool. He can talk to us. We're all adults here, mostly. We've survived a lot worse than hearing Crowley monologue.”

“You're too kind,” Crowley choked out around Raphael's tight grip.

Gabriel stood and walked with a swagger around the table to place himself between Sam and the demon. His hands moved to his hips, and there was a cockiness Mary wasn't used to seeing. A sharp, mean edge to his confidence spoke of imminent danger. “Isn't he, though?” Gabriel sneered. “I think preventing us from smiting you just put Deano in the running for sainthood.”

“Awesome,” Dean muttered, then cleared his throat. “Okay. How about we all sit back down. I know everyone's on edge, and hey, I get it—King of Hell popping by in the middle of breakfast can be cause for concern. But I think we're safe. The guy loves himself way too much to be on a suicide run.”

Mary spared a glance at the rest of the table. Jody looked murderous while the twins were both standing with weapons drawn. Sam and Dean were the only ones who remained calm, and relatively relaxed now that the other angels were gone. In fact, Crowley's predicament seemed to amuse them both.

Gabriel snapped his fingers and a small wooden stool appeared behind Crowley. “Sit, demon. And stay upwind. I don't want the smell of sulfur to ruin my breakfast.”

Crowley had no choice when Raphael shoved him down onto the seat. Keeping his grip tight around the demon's throat, the archangel leaned in until they were nose-to-nose. No words were exchanged that Mary could hear, but a message was clearly conveyed when Crowley quickly nodded. Raphael gave a frustrated snort and released him. Then, he straightened up and stood to the side, planting his staff in the ground inches away from Crowley's foot.

Rubbing his throat, Crowley said in a hoarse voice, “Lovely friends you have now, boys. I take it this is a recent development.”

Gabriel turned to the brothers and gestured for them to scoot down the bench. Dean nudged Jody and she moved over. He stepped her way, pulling Sam with him, and sat down. The twins slowly moved to the empty seats next to Mary, but kept their weapons handy. Finally, Gabriel plopped on the bench beside Sam.

“Gabriel!” Sam complained with a grunt as he was suddenly wedged between the archangel and his brother. “I'm safe enough without you sitting on me! Shove over!!”

Mary saw him send a sharp elbow into Gabriel's side, but it had no effect. Not giving up, Sam reached up and yanked on something in the air. The archangel's head whipped around, startling the boy. For a second, there was such an intense look on Gabriel's face that it scared Mary. Dean's arm snaking protectively around his brother's chest did little to calm her.

Then, Gabriel blinked, and the silent fury faded. He released a slow breath and nodded, whispering something unintelligible. Sam replied in Enochian, hesitantly patting the archangel's shoulder. Gabriel smiled and shifted over a few inches.

“I take it _that_ is a recent development as well?” Crowley asked quietly, staring at Sam in amazement. “That _is_ Sam, isn't it?”

“Yes, Crowley, it's me,” Sam answered quickly before anyone else had the chance to speak. “It was a parting gift from Chuck for saving the world. Again. Why are you here? Has something happened or are you just bored? Better yet, _how_ are you here?”

“Ah, so child in appearance only. It's good to know your conversion to a member of the Host hasn't diminished your ability for sass,” Crowley scoffed as his eyes shifted to the archangels. “And I'm guessing their return is also thanks to Him?”

Sam rubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah, it's been one big family reunion around here. Answer my questions.”

Crowley squinted, like the boy was too bright. “Yesterday, there was an explosion of grace massive enough to shake Hell. Even my mother felt it. Figured, if anyone would know what was going on, it would be you three,” he explained, including Castiel in the count with nod. “I don't imagine the explosion was linked to your transformation, unless Chuck was a little too rough with His grace-giving. The scream I heard did not sound like God's healing touch.”

“No, it wasn't Chuck. He changed me the same day the Dean stopped Amara from destroying the sun.” Sam took a deep breath and Mary wished there wasn't a table between them. He kept his gaze on Crowley, but she saw his eyes go unfocused. “There was an...incident...yesterday that forced me into a growth spurt. It involved people from your neck of the woods.”

“Demons?” Crowley asked, sounding surprised.

“Brits,” Sam corrected with a tight voice.

“Humans!?”

Sam looked down at his plate. “Yup.”

“Huh,” Crowley huffed as though astounded. “Might I ask—why the angelic reunion? Are we gearing up for a new threat? Or did God just miss His boys?”

“I don't see how that is any of your business,” Gabriel cut in.

Crowley laughed. “Gabriel, is it? Well, Messenger, I _am_ the King of Hell. And while that may seem trivial to _some_ around here, it was good enough for Daddy Dearest when He needed my assistance. So settle your feathers before you break something.”

Mary almost spat out the coffee she'd been drinking to ease her dry mouth. Was everyone in the future this sarcastic? Crowley lit up at her reaction, then looked closely at her as though he'd caught a glimpse of something. His eyes mapped her face, and she felt like he could see too much.

“'One big family reunion,' hmm?” he said with a little too much understanding.

“Hey!” Gabriel snapped his fingers, drawing the attention back to himself. “Why would we need your assistance?”

Crowley squared his shoulders and picked invisible fuzz off his jacket. “Well, for starters, it may be beneficial to us both if I were to inform my demons to stay clear of you lot. I'm a business man—it's bad business to send soldiers to an empty death. As we currently have a tentative truce, I say we maintain the peace until such time we find ourselves at odds once again. Besides,” he looked at each of them in turn, “we still have a common threat, do we not?”

“Lucifer,” Dean said gruffly.

“And I called you the dumb one,” Crowley drawled while giving him slow claps. “I've been keeping tabs on the devil. _Self-preservation_ and all that.”

“Yeah? And what exactly have you learned?” Dean asked. He took a bite of his food, already unimpressed by whatever answer the demon gave.

Crowley scowled at the hunter. “I followed the trail of burnt-out vessels to find who he's currently inhabiting. You'll never guess—”

“Vince Vicente,” several voices interrupted in unison.

Crowley jumped, and his frown grew deeper. Obviously, he hadn't planned on them ruining his big reveal. “Yes. Well, I suppose it's easier when you have two archangels on your team.”

“Three,” Gabriel corrected with a grin.

Crowley's eyebrows shot up. “Three?”

“You forgot Michael,” Raphael rumbled coldly from above.

“Michael's back?” Crowley's voice broke on the archangel's name. “And here I thought he'd just been quiet without his brother tormenting him in the Cage.”

“Mickey is restoring Heaven as we speak,” Gabriel's grin grew to include teeth. “I'm sure he'll be pleased to know Hell's management is a willing ally to our Father.”

“ _Bloody hell,_ don't say things like that! I have a reputation to maintain!” Crowley said in a furious whisper, eyes searching the treeline for hidden witnesses.

“What reputation?” Castiel spoke up.

Dean snorted in agreement. “Don't worry, Crowley. Your supervillian-image is safe with us.”

“I take it you have some sort of plan for dealing with Lucifer, then?” Crowley challenged. “Seeing as you're all having a relaxed picnic, can I assume the threat is gone? Or are we going the usual route of ignoring the problem until it's actually _setting fire to your home?_ ”

Mary watched Sam flinch and huddle down, making himself even smaller. Dean's left arm tightened around him at the same time he reached for Sam with his right hand. She was pretty sure he was trying to stop Sam from digging into his palm.

“Watch your tone,” Gabriel said in a low, dangerous voice. “No one is ignoring any threat, including Lucifer. Leave him to us.”

“Now, answer Samuel's other question,” Raphael ordered.

“Which one?” Crowley asked, rubbing his temples.

“ _How_ did you get here?” Raphael's voice seemed to roll up through the ground.

“I am a demon...” Crowley started flippantly.

Raphael snarled and swung the blade of his staff around to rest against the demon's neck. It happened faster than Mary's eyes could follow. “Do not play coy. I know the abilities of every rank in Hell. _How_ did you get through our wards?”

Crowley gasped out a breath, but continued talking in his casual manner. “As I was saying, I am a demon who was raised by a powerful witch. A powerful witch who also joined with your Father against the Darkness—and let me tell you, Hell has nothing on the torture of having to listen to those two prattle on about parenthood!”

“ _HOW!_ ” Raphael roared, out of patience.

“ _Magic,_ you _fucking idiot!_ ” Crowley bellowed back. “Do you know how many times they've chained me in this pit? I am beyond familiar with their usual wards. And when we all gathered for our end-of-the-world pity party, you might say I 'propped the back door open' so I'd have a way back in. Just in case.”

“How?” the Healer's whisper was far more intimidating than his yell.

Crowley shuddered, looking away from them. “Spell bags. Placed in the wall of a room no one ever uses. And a few more in the library.” He sighed and waved his hand. Several tiny leather pouches appeared in his palm.

Raphael grabbed them and passed them to Gabriel without taking his eyes off the demon. He then began to forcefully pat down Crowley's suite, checking the pockets for any more hidden objects. Finding nothing, the archangel straightened back up. “If you want to be helpful, then _go._ Only return if you are summoned. The angels will be given orders to smite any demon that shows their face here.”

“Again, such lovely friends.” Crowley rolled his eyes. “Winchesters, angels, humans—the _displeasure_ has been all mine. Enjoy your breakfast.” He disappeared as silently as he'd appeared.

A collective sigh went out around the table. Mary stared at the empty stool, distrusting the relief. A hand landed on her back and she almost fell off the bench.

“Easy there, momma,” Max's low voice soothed in her ear as he steadied her. “You okay?”

“Never a dull moment,” she whispered back with a slight smile.

“So I'm learning with this crew,” Max said, hugging her tightly.

Mary looked across the table at her boys. Dean was murmuring in his brother's ear, too quiet for her to hear. Sam's face stayed blank but his body sagged against Dean's side.

A loud beeping came from the other side of Dean. Jody pulled out her cell phone and read her message. “Well, folks. I hate to eat and run, but it looks like I've got to head out. Got a new case.” She scrolled down the screen and frowned. “And, apparently, we're out of milk.”

Everyone got up to say their farewells, and the twins announced they were leaving as well. They had another hunt already lined up before being diverted to help the Winchesters. Promises were made to get together in a non-work-related capacity soon.

“Don't forget—you ever need some more female company, just come see me and my girls. We'll watch cheesy rom-com movies and eat ice cream.” Jody said, wrapping Mary in a hug.

“Absolutely. Thank you, Jody. For everything.” Mary felt the tears burn her eyes and throat as she held tight to the older woman. This other mother who had understood Mary's loss immediately and made her feel not so alone. Who had been there for her boys when Mary was in Heaven, and had more adopted strays waiting for her back home. She missed Jody already.

“Any time, Mary. You all rest up and relax. You're due a break.” Jody gave the boys their hugs and the angels a half-threat to keep them all safe.

Max and Alicia crushed Mary between them, promising to swing by the bunker next time they were in the area. “After all, you owe us a look at that library!” Alicia said.

“There's a bed here anytime you guys need it,” Dean told them. “I mean it—if you ever find yourself this way and you need something, let us know. Bed, shower, food, and research is all here.”

“A hunter's sanctuary,” Max mused thoughtfully, “There hasn't been one in this region for several years.”

“Not since the Roadhouse,” Alicia agreed. “God, I miss that place. Ellen and Jo were amazing.”

“You knew Ellen and Jo?” Dean asked, sounding a little breathless. Mary heard the heartbreak in their names. She wondered who they were, and what had happened to them.

“Everyone knew those women,” Max answered with reverence.

“We did a hunt with Jo down South.” Alicia smiled. “Shew, that girl could fight.”

“That girl could drink!” Max added, also smiling. “She knew her liquors and her stories.” He winked at Dean. “Heard a few about you two. But we'll have to save those for next time.”

Gabriel snapped up to-go containers and sent them with more food than had originally been on the table. Everyone helped to load up their vehicles, and waved good-bye. Mary was sad to see them leave, but their absence brought an instant relief to those left behind. Being social was exhausting.

She studied the others. Gabriel still seemed tense and on high-alert, while Dean looked like he had aged a decade in under an hour. Raphael and Castiel were both drained, but calm. And Sam...her youngest had not spoken since Crowley's departure. She'd seen him nod and wave to the others as they'd left, but his attention was clearly turned inward. He leaned against his brother, listless and tired.

“What is the least stressful thing we can do right now?” she asked the group who all responded with slow blinks. “I'm talking relaxed-to-the-point-of-drooling levels of activity. Any suggestions? Besides wrapping ourselves in blankets and literally drooling?”

Gabriel giggled—a clear sign of his own state of mind. He only ever giggled when a crisis had been narrowly averted. “How about we lounge around watching movies all day?” He looked down at Sam and Mary caught a flash of concern in his eyes. “It'll give us a chance to recheck his wings.”

“How's that sound, Sammy?” Dean asked as he combed through his brother's hair with gentle fingers.

Sam didn't say anything, but slowly nodded in response. Mary didn't think he'd even heard the question and was just reacting to the tone of Dean's voice. She caught her eldest's eyes and sent him a skeptical look. She mouthed the words 'Is he okay?' and nodded toward Sam. Dean shrugged.

“Come on, kids,” Gabriel said, ushering them inside.

Mary followed behind, so she saw when Sam tripped on his own feet and staggered. Dean scooped him up before anyone else could move. “Watch it, dude,” he fussed at the boy. “We're, like, three feet from the stairs. You almost went head-first down them.”

Sam huffed and patted his brother's shoulder.

“No, falling head-first down stairs is not 'oh well.' It's more like, 'oh shit!'” Dean shook his head. “You're killing me, Smalls.”

Mary didn't get the reference, but Gabriel clearly did as it made him start giggling again. Castiel stepped up alongside her, looking as confused and lost as she felt. “I think there's something wrong with your brother. He appears to be cracking.”

Castiel studied the shorter archangel with obvious concern. “Cracking?” he asked in a rough voice.

“I'm kidding, Castiel,” Mary quickly reassured, realizing the angel was taking her words literally. “I just meant he's doing that weird stress-laugh-thing. If he was human, I'd say he needs sleep. Not sure what an archangel would need.”

“I do not have a 'weird laugh thing,' thank you very much!” Gabriel pouted.

They piled into the main entrance room of the bunker and came to a stop. Mary looked around for a new threat, not knowing why they'd quit moving.

Dean cleared his throat. “Um, so, where are we watching movies, guys? The only TV is in Sam's old room. Should I move it out to the library? It's where we have couches.”

“What kind of angel do you take me for?” Gabriel snapped his fingers dramatically. Sam jolted in Dean's arms, but nothing changed around them.

“Am I supposed to be impressed?” Dean asked, rubbing his brother's back.

Gabriel just smirked and took off down the hallway. They all followed, too tired to demand an answer. He led them past the shared bedroom to a corridor that hadn't existed before. A single door stood at the end of the short passage. He pushed it open and stepped aside.

Mary gasped. A plush couch wrapped most of the way around three of the walls. A mini-island of ottomans sat in the middle, piled high with a stack of blankets. Enormous pillows littered the floor. The fourth wall held a television larger than Mary had ever seen outside a movie theater. In the corner stood an old-fashioned popcorn machine with the glass window. It was already full, and the room smelled like butter.

A long, low bookshelf ran along the wall and several different metal boxes that looked similar to VCRs. They each had a different strange remotes sitting on top. The bottom shelf held what Mary first thought were books, and she wondered why they were all the same exact size. On closer inspection, it seemed they were all movies and...games? She looked at her sons to ask, but stopped herself.

Dean stood in the middle of the room with his mouth open. It was a rare sight—her oldest son, speechless with wonder. It was exactly how she pictured him looking the first time John gave him the keys to the Impala. He was even blinking away tears.

“Does this meet your movie-watching criteria?” Gabriel asked. His voice was soft, but he kept the smirk.

“This is awesome,” Dean whispered without moving.

Gabriel chuckled. “Well, get comfy, bud. It's hard to lounge while standing. Check out these couches.”

Dean shuffled awkwardly around the obstacles of pillows. Mary was reassured that, if they fell, at least they'd land on something soft. She sank down into the nearest sofa section and groaned at how amazing it felt.

Dean let out an almost identical moan of his own when he fell back into the cushions. He kept a loose hold on Sam, allowing the boy to move away and sit next to him when he grew uncomfortable. “Oh my God, Sammy. This is it—I'm done with hunting. Time to hang it all up because I'm never moving from this spot again.”

“That does not seem like good hygiene, Dean,” Castiel stated in his matter-of-fact kind of way. Mary snorted and looked over at the seraph. He stood in the doorway, blocking Raphael who was towering behind him.

“You could help with that, Cassie. Sponge ba—” Gabriel's teasing tone was cut off abruptly by a well-aimed pillow smacking him in the face. Mary smothered her laughter into the collar of her over-sized sweater—Dean's face burned red from either outrage or embarrassment as he glared at the archangel. After a beat, he flopped back into the cushions, satisfied with his successful throw.

“Stop mortifying the hunter, Gabriel,” Raphael said from the hall. “And move, Castiel! I want to know what is so special about this room and 'movies.'” He drew out the vowels like he wasn't sure how to pronounce it.

“What are we watching?” Mary asked. Some of the film titles had been familiar, but most were complete mysteries.

“What kind of movies do you like?” Gabriel started going through the strange film-cases—they were so much smaller than VHS tapes. “Are you a rom-com kinda girl, like Jody?”

“I don't even know what 'rom-com' means,” Mary admitted.

“Romantic Comedy,” Gabriel explained.

“Ugh,” Mary shivered and made a face. Comedy she could enjoy, but romance? Those stories were never interesting enough to begin with, and John's loss was still too recent for her to watch another couple fall in love. “No, I'm definitely not a 'rom-com' kinda girl.”

“Thank God,” Dean muttered in relief.

“So, what's your preferred genre? Or better yet, what's your favorite movie?” Gabriel asked, looking at her over his shoulder.

Mary saw Dean sit up at the question, as though eagerly awaiting her answer. Then, she realized he probably _didn't know_ her favorite movie, and she suddenly found herself resisting the urge to rub her eyes. “Umm, well, I didn't get the chance to see a lot of films in the theaters, and we only owned a few on tape. But I loved good action and science fiction—not the cheesy ones your dad loved, but the ones that made you feel like aliens and space travel were real possibilities.”

Dean stared openly at her, like he was seeing her for the first time. “Really?” He sounded so much like his younger self. He pushed Sam, toppling the boy over on the cushion with a grunt. “Did you hear that Sammy? Mom's a total nerd,” he whispered loudly.

Sam turned bright hazel eyes on her, and she noticed a small smile touch the corner of his mouth. He stayed there, laying curled up on his side. He may not be talking, but he was engaged enough to be paying attention.

Mary returned the smile, encouraged by their eagerness to learn more about her. Not just her as their mother, but her as a person. She leaned forward, searching her memories for film titles. “Oh yeah. I'm sure films have come a long way since the early eighties, but we had a few masterpieces. Don't know if you would have seen them or not. One was actually called 'Alien.' It was terrifying but so good. John couldn't handle that one.”

“ _Dad_ couldn't handle 'Alien?'” Dean laughed, bewildered by the idea.

“Not after the war,” Mary cringed, thinking about it. His violent outbursts had been hard, but the episodes that left him catatonic were always somehow worse. She shook her head, not wanting to dwell on those memories when she had two other war-weary soldiers right in front of her. “But there was another one we both enjoyed. It was a trilogy, actually, but I never got to see the third film. It was in theaters right after Sammy was born and it still hadn't come out on tape when I...well, you know.”

“No way,” Dean said.

“'No way' what?” Mary asked, unsure what she'd said wrong.

“You're talking about 'Star Wars.' And are you telling me you never got to see “Return of the Jedi?'” Dean's face and tone were totally serious.

“Um, yes?” Mary answered. “Do you have it? Did _you_ like it? You were still a baby when the first two came out, so I wasn't sure...”

“Are you kidding me!? Do _I_ like...” he broke off, too flustered to continue. “Gabe, tell me you included them in that library over there. If not, I think Sammy's got the DVDs in his room.”

“Of course I have the original 'Star Wars' trilogy—special edition _and_ the original theatrical release which is completely unavailable now. I also have the prequels, the animated series, and the most recent films—'The Force Awakens' and 'Rogue One.' Oh, and all the random appearances like the 'Star Wars Holiday Special' with Bea Arthur.” Gabriel moved down the bookshelf and started pulling cases out by the handful.

“They made more after the third movie?” Mary asked, excitement flowing through her with each unknown title he listed. It felt strange to experience a rush that wasn't connected to actual danger. It made her giddy.

“Ha!” Dean barked out a laugh. “They probably made more than they should have. The prequels totally suck, but they're worth a watch. I actually haven't seen the two new ones either. Not a lot of movie-time when the world's ending.”

“Well, I think we've got our day blocked out!” Gabriel exclaimed, bringing a pile of cases over to them. “So how do we want to do this? Start with Episode One and play them in chronological order or do we start with the classic trilogy and go in order of release dates?”

“Release dates, definitely. You have to see 'Return of the Jedi' before the prequels.” Dean smiled at her and patted the seat next to him in invitation. Mary felt a warmth settle in her chest as she jumped up and joined him.

Gabriel showed her the cases and Mary marveled at how light-weight they all were. She picked up the one that had the familiar movie poster of 'A New Hope' on the front. Opening it up, she was stunned to find a simple silver disk. “How...This is the movie?” she asked, not touching the fragile-looking disk. They hadn't watched much of anything together since her resurrection except a few short videos online—something called 'YouTube.' Apparently, anyone could make a film these days. She remembered what a big deal it was to own a camera that took photos. Now, they were built into people's phones.

“Oh, the joys of modern technology!” Gabriel said, popping the disk out without a care. “These are called DVDs. They usually hold more than just the movie. Most have bonus features like bloopers, behind-the-scene documentaries, commentaries, and trailers.”

“Times certainly have changed,” she mused as Gabriel took the cases back to the shelf and pressed the disk against the edge of one metal box. The disk automatically got pulled inside...like magic.

Castiel joined them on the couches, sitting in the corner section next to Sam. He surprised her by kicking his shoes off and stretching his legs along the couch. She must have made a noise or strange face, because he gave her a shy smile and said, “When I had almost no power, I spent most of my time here at the bunker watching Netflix in Sam's room. I found I quite enjoyed removing my shoes and laying down during the experience. It was...relaxing.”

Mary nodded and took her own shoes off, tossing them toward the door. They bounced and hit Raphael who still stood like a statue against the wall. “Oops!” she winced. “Sorry, Raphael.”

He smiled at her and bent down to arrange her shoes together. “It is not a problem. I, too, prefer to be barefoot.”

Gabriel glanced at his older brother while juggling several remotes. “Yeah, we're gonna need to get you some clothes and shoes if we ever take you out into the public. Most humans frown on walking barefoot in stores and restaurants.”

Raphael frowned at his feet and wriggled his toes deeper into the thick carpet. “I do not think I will like that.”

“Too bad, bro,” Gabriel said. “If you want to be a cool kid and hang with the humans, then you gotta wear shoes. Or at least appear to be wearing shoes. And probably tone done the gloriously almost-glowing outfit.”

Raphael traced the embroidered pattern stitched along the v-neck collar of his dashiki tunic. “What is wrong with my clothes?”

“Nothing. But it's usually a good idea to try and blend in with the humans around you, and these humans prefer jeans and flannel.” Gabriel's eyes raked over Dean's appearance and he gave an exaggerated shudder. “Of course, there's no accounting for their tastes either.”

“Oh, because you're such a style guru,” Dean shot back. “I'll remind you that the first time we met, you were wearing a gray jumpsuit onesie thing.”

“I was pretending to be a janitor!” Gabriel defended. “What's your excuse? An unchecked obsession with lumberjacks leftover from your youth?”

“They are practical!” Dean insisted with a huff.

“Raphael,” Mary whispered and gestured for the Healer to join her. “Come sit down before they start throwing things.”

“You have already thrown things at me,” he said, surprised by her order, but gracefully obeying anyway. He perched on the edge without sinking into the sofa.

Mary gently put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him back until he was sitting like the rest of them. She patted him twice before removing her hand with a smile. “Much better. Most people work their way up to sitting on the edge of their seat during a movie.”

Gabriel growled in frustration and tossed the remotes onto the floor. “How can human invention be so brilliant and stupid at the same time? Buttons everywhere, and most have no purpose!” He waved his hand and darkness descended on the room.

Mary heard a snap, and she jumped as the television flared to life. A blast of brass instruments charged from invisible speakers as the theme song began to play. Mary sat back, clutching a pillow to her chest and staring at the incredible images on the screen. It was _better_ than a movie theater!

“Wow,” she gasped.

Dean chuckled and gently elbowed her. “Just wait. This is only the menu screen.”

Mary grinned foolishly at him, feeling like a kid at an amusement park. Movement caught her eye and she looked past Dean to see Castiel arranging a pillow under Sam's head. The boy's eyes were still open, though heavy with lingering exhaustion.

The seraph whispered something in Enochian, and Sam nodded. Castiel then settled back against the cushions and began running a hand gently over Sam's back. She watched in relief as her youngest relaxed into the touch. And pushed down the pang of sadness that it wasn't her comforting Sam.

“Everyone set?” Gabriel asked, pushing the ottomans one by one under Raphael, Mary, and Dean's feet. Satisfied that everyone was comfortable, he flopped in the floor near Sam. “Good. Let's do this.” And with a final snap, the menu was replaced by the slow-crawl of words across the screen.

Mary hugged the pillow tighter and leaned against her oldest boy's shoulder, quickly losing herself in her favorite story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been on a super writing spree for a few days. When I was several pages past the end of Mary's POV and into Castiel's POV, I realized...if I covered everything I planned to in this scene and kept it in this chapter, then I would end up with a monsterously unmanageable chapter.  
> So, I decided to go ahead and post this, and count myself as ahead on the NEXT chapter (WootWoot!!)!
> 
> I was incredibly touched by everyone's kind words of encouragement, support, and love. Thank you...all of you <3  
> And special thanks again to @nathyfaith and @scrollingkingfisher for taking the time to beta this!!  
> Love and blessings <3<3<3


	7. Death Is Just So Full and Man So Small.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, folks...that sure was some finale, huh?  
> All I can say is that I look forward to the vast amount of fix-it fics that will get written during the hiatus!!  
> Thanks to my betas, @nathyfaith and @scrollingkingfisher!!!! Y'all are the BEST!!!
> 
> Meantime, here's my birthday gift to myself and y'all: over 10K of fluffs, all from the POV from Team Free Will!!  
> Blessings to you all <3<3<3  
> Stay loving and kind!

Castiel only half-listened to the movie. Metatron may have given him “Star Wars” as part of the pop-culture download, but this was his first time actually watching them. His attention, however, stayed on Sam. An internal storm had been steadily brewing in the fledgling since Crowley's departure.

The King of Hell's accusation that they were ignoring the threat of Lucifer had stirred up a hornets' nest of emotions in his friend. Guilt and helplessness from the demon's words continued resonating off the young grace throughout the film. Occasionally, the fragile wings twitched against his palm and Castiel would soothe them as best he could.

Lucifer's face from the previous morning, taken from an aging rockstar, kept flashing in Castiel's mind. As Sam unconsciously projected his memories and fears, Castiel pushed back with warmth and feelings of safety. And tried not to allow his own guilt over Lucifer's current presence on Earth to carry over.

It had not yet been discussed—Castiel's decision to say “yes” to Lucifer, nor the actions committed while the archangel had been in control. He was unsure if Sam had already forgiven him, or if the crime was being over-looked in favor of dealing with everything else. Neither option sat well with the seraph.

When the film ended, Gabriel got up to change it out for the next in line. Raphael asked Mary questions about the Force while Dean stood and stretched. Sam stayed put, silently observing everyone, so Castiel remained with him.

“Anybody want anything?” Dean asked.

“Coffee, please. And are there anymore cinnamon rolls left?” Mary turned pleading eyes on Gabriel, who nodded with a smile.

“Of course! I brought all the good stuff. You know, for second breakfast.” The archangel reached down and lifted his picnic basket off the floor by the end of the couch. Castiel didn't remember it being there when he'd entered the room.

“You're a God-send, Gabriel.” Mary planted a kiss on his cheek and started pulling out dishes. Dean made a gagging noise and walked out.

“Sure, give Dad all the credit,” Gabriel pouted before glancing in Castiel's direction. “How about the couch potatoes? Anything I can tempt you with from my magic basket?” Castiel heard his brother's unvoiced concern. _You think we can get him to eat a bit more? He barely had anything this morning._

Sam shrugged, then shook his head.

“How about something warm? Hot chocolate or tea?” Castiel prodded. Sam shrugged again, but didn't say no.

“Hot chocolate sounds perfect, Cassie. I'm gonna make some for all of us,” Gabriel said and bounded into the hallway bellowing, “Deano, hold off on those coffees!”

Sam gave the exiting archangel an exasperated sigh before turning a questioning look on Castiel, as though asking 'what's up with him?'

“He is worried,” Castiel explained simply.

It was true—Gabriel's flock had been threatened and harmed several times in just a few days. He would likely swing between hyper-protective and aggressively nurturing for a long while. There had been a time when Heaven's leaders were expected to fuss over their underlings. Then the ranks decided that caring equaled coddling, and flocks faded into rarity.

Sam's face fell as he nodded, slow and serious, and sat up. His ever-present anxiety spiked even higher, although he hid it well on the outside. Pushing his hair back, the boy squared his shoulders and blew out a breath—a series of gestures Castiel had seen countless times performed in an adult body. This was Sam bracing himself for a potentially devastating discussion.

Castiel frowned, wondering how Sam had interpreted his words. Winchesters never readily agreed to someone worrying about them. He thought about how he could clarify his statement when Raphael spoke up.

“Samuel,” the Healer said in a solemn tone. Sam immediately turned, his spine snapping to attention. “Do you suppose the Force works similarly to grace?”

The question was met with silence until Mary sat on the ottoman across from Sam. She put her plate down between them—several cinnamon rolls sat next to a huge pile of Gabriel's special fruit salad. “It's not a trick question, Sammy,” she said, tearing apart a roll and handing part of it to her youngest. He automatically reached for it, but just held it like he didn't know what to do with the sticky bread. “Careful, the icing's starting to drip.”

Sam almost panicked, drawing his hand closer to keep it from getting on the couch. Just as the glob started sliding off the top, he shoved it into his mouth for lack of any other option. The sweetness made him scrunch his face, but he chewed and swallowed. His gaze cut back to Raphael. “What?”

The archangel tilted his head. “Is the Force to a Jedi what grace is to angels? Does it work the same?”

Sam gave a half shake of his head before swinging around to Castiel. “What?” he repeated, part-outraged and part-incredulous.

Castiel recognized the Healer's attempt at focusing Sam's mind away from whatever was keeping the fledgling on high-alert. Asking him about a familiar and favorite topic was smart. Playing along, Castiel snagged a strawberry and shrugged. “I do not know enough about these films to answer. I may know the dialogue, but I do not understand human nuance.”

“Is it explained later in the series?” Raphael showed enough genuine curiosity that Sam felt compelled to answer.

“It...umm,” Sam nibbled on the roll absently as he finally considered the question. “I guess there are some similarities, but they aren't the same. The Force is a mystical energy that the Jedi and Sith can tap into. People who are born sensitive to the Force can manipulate it for their abilities.”

“So, they do not contain the Force within them.” Raphael stated with a nod.

“Not in the same way that angels have grace. I...I don't really understand grace that much yet. But angels are made of grace, right? It's like their blood and energy and consciousness all in one. But the Force is more of a universal energy that connects everything...” Sam explained, going into details contained in something called an “extended universe.”

Castiel didn't understand most of what Sam said, but relaxed as the boy's silence was finally broken. They each asked questions to keep him rambling. And while he remained disconnected, he was no longer completely despondent.

Dean and Gabriel returned carrying trays of extravagantly created drinks. There were piles of whipped cream topped with some kind of colorful sugar that sparkled, and peppermint sticks standing tall in each glass. Both men's eyes warmed at the sight of Sam sitting up and talking.

“Ugh,” Dean interrupted with a groan, “I hope you guys realize that you've opened yourselves up to days of lectures on the various eras of Sith philosophies and the subtle differences between all twenty-nine combat styles.”

“There's only seven, Dean,” Sam corrected in a tone that suggested this was a common argument.

“Whatever, nerd,” Dean handed Mary and Raphael a drink before climbing over the ottomans to reclaim his seat. The Healer stared at it without drinking. “You gonna show them your YouTube playlist of _Star Wars_ theories?”

“No. You gonna show them _your_ playlists?” Sam challenged.

Castiel almost laughed at the deep blush that burned the hunter's neck and face.

“No! Truce.” Dean quickly answered, dragging a grin from his brother. “Aaaand I think it's time for the next one. Gabriel, a galaxy far far away is calling our name, let's go!”

“Will you show me your playlist?” Gabriel wagged his eyebrows as Dean choked on his drink. Chuckling, he gave the remaining cocoas to Sam and Castiel. “Here you go, kiddos. Drink up. Cas, hold mine too for a second. Don't drink it.” He moved to Castiel's feet, lifting them up and sitting down with them on his lap.

“Gabriel, what...” Castiel tensed at the unexpected closeness. He'd never put his feet on someone's lap before—it seemed intrusive. And made him feel suddenly vulnerable.

“Hush, Cassie. I promise not to tickle you.”

“Unless he changes his mind. Or gets bored. Or thinks it might be hilarious.” Dean said with a smirk.

“Okay, yes. Unless those things happen, I promise not to tickle. Now give me my drink, little bro. I'm a lot less likely to do anything if I'm occupied with chocolate.” Gabriel reached dramatically with his shorter arms and Castiel handed him the mug that said 'Tricks are for Tricksters.' He snapped the lights off and the movie started.

Mary scrambled to her seat and settled between Raphael and Dean, leaving the plate of food behind. “You're supposed to drink it,” she whispered to the Healer.

“How do I get to the drink? It is covered in foam and gritty sugar,” he confessed.

She laughed lightly. “It'll dissolve on your tongue. Just try it.”

Castiel vowed to never forget the sight of Raphael with a whipped cream mustache. With a smile, the seraph settled in with his own drink. He quickly got lost in the sweeping shots of the ice-planet Hoth, marveling at human creativity.

It wasn't until Luke fled Dagobah to chase the vision sent by Darth Vader that Castiel noticed Sam was shivering. The boy held his cold mug in a death grip as he stared unseeing at the screen. A brush of his grace told Castiel all he needed to know—Lucifer lingered in his thoughts. He suspected that Sam's own experiences of being misguided and manipulated were adding to the memories.

 _Gabriel._ Castiel nudged the archangel with his toes as he gently removed the mug from Sam's hands. Gabriel banished it with a wave so Castiel could coax the boy into laying down again. He considered stopping the movie, but decided against it.

This was going to happen regularly until Sam's brain processed all his unsorted memories. Before the kidnapping, most of it seemed to happen during sleep. But there were enough instances of Sam having flashbacks during the day.

It was always a toss-up as to whether the boy would come out of it with a brief head shake or with his grace surging everywhere. The one thing that remained a constant was Sam's embarrassment. If they kept their reactions calm and contained, then maybe Sam wouldn't feel like these episodes were so imposing.

Gabriel passed him a blanket, and Castiel draped it over Sam. Tiny shivers had worked their way up the boy's arms, and he wanted to ward off both the chill and insecurity that always came with memories of the Morningstar. He could just smite Crowley for his callousness.

Dean saw what they were doing and helped. Without a word, he pulled off Sam's shoes and tucked the blanket around his brother's feet. Sam pulled the blanket up over his shoulders and wormed his toes under Dean's thighs. The hunter smiled fondly and rested his arm over the covered legs, adding a layer of weight and security to the warmth.

 _How is he doing?_ Raphael's true-voice rumbled under the sound of the film.

 _He is troubled,_ Castiel answered honestly.

 _What's bothering him the most—the demon, the angels, the kidnapping?_ Gabriel asked, joining them in their silent conversation.

Castiel had almost forgotten Sam's reaction to the guards' arrival. It certainly hadn't been positive. There had been both fear and anxiety, but he didn't know the exact roots of either emotion. He did, however, recognize what had truly upset Sam. _There is a combination of factors. But overall, I believe it was what Crowley said...about us not taking the threat of Lucifer seriously._

 _Let me guess—Sam feels like it's his duty to help lead the charge against his worst enemy._ Gabriel gave a weary mental sigh.

 _His duty? But he's too young and untrained. He cannot think others expect this of him!_ Raphael exclaimed, the idea unbelievable. _Does he understand that the very armies of Heaven would fight to see him safe?_

Castiel glanced at his brother and saw the familiar frustration often inspired by the Winchesters. It came from their ingrained belief that the world was their personal responsibility regardless of how many times older, more powerful beings told them otherwise. Of course, some of those beings had only recently joined their cause. Before their return, the world had endured by the brothers' actions alone because no one else cared enough to do it for them.

 _To be fair, the only times Heaven has aided the Winchesters is when it ensured the Hosts' survival. Almost everyone who has stood beside them in loyalty or love has died. Besides, every time Sam tried to stop hunting in the past, it ended in disaster. And he has always taken the blame. I do not think anyone has ever encouraged him to give it up. He knows no other life._ Castiel said carefully.

There was a pause as the archangels sat in silent contemplation.

 _So, he was upset by the demon's words, but not the demon itself?_ Raphael asked slowly, grace still rolling with disbelief.

Castiel almost snorted. _It has been a while since Crowley last posed a serious threat to us. He is an annoyance more than anything._

 _Regardless of whatever alliance you have been forced into, a demon should always be treated with caution. The King of Hell even more so!_ Raphael lectured.

Reasons why Crowley was the least intimidating 'villain' in their lives ran through Castiel's mind, but he didn't get the chance to explain any of them. A tendril of grace smacked him in the back of the head, making him startle and turn to find Gabriel giving him a stern look.

_Seriously! What happened out there, Cassie?_

_What do you mean?_ Castiel felt adrift in the sudden shift of mood. He double checked Sam, making sure he wasn't being affected by their discussion. The boy seemed engrossed in the film now that the shivers had died down.

 _He means that when the King of Hell appears within arm's reach of a fledgling, it's grounds for all-out war._ Raphael answered instead, his critical gaze making Castiel want to squirm.

Gabriel's hands squeezed his ankles like he was trying to be reassuring. _We get that you've had to team up recently, but..._

 _I would think you, of all people, would understand that things are not always so black and white,_ Castiel interrupted, staring straight into his brother's golden eyes. _Less than a month ago, this bunker held the Winchester brothers, the King of Hell and his immortal witch mother, myself with Lucifer in possession of my vessel, and our Father. And when everyone, including God, had given in to despair, Sam was the one breaking up the pity party!_

 _Cassie..._ Gabriel started, his disapproval melting into to concern.

 _No!_ Castiel cut him off. _Why does Sam feel it is his duty? Because while Dean convinced Amara to give her brother a second chance, Sam convinced God to give His creation another chance. Samuel Winchester gave hope to the Father and made Him care again. And, yes, we have all either teamed up with undesirable allies or turned ourselves into something unrecognizable—all to save this ungrateful world!_

 _We know,_ Raphael said softly, without judgment.

 _Yes, you do._ Castiel's aggression deflated. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back against the sofa. He had worked with Crowley then, too—and it ended in disaster. He could still feel the Leviathans squirming against his true-self if he thought about it. The image of Raphael's death was forever seared in his mind. And what had he achieved? Could anyone say that the Leviathans were the lesser evil compared to a civil war in Heaven?

It seemed like any good he'd done over the years was overshadowed by even greater mistakes—world ending, wall breaking, life destroying mistakes. He looked down at Sam and brushed through the mess of curls with unsteady fingers. What qualified him to be a caretaker to Heaven's newest child?

Sam shifted, turning his head enough to gaze worriedly up at Castiel. Whatever he saw made the boy's anxiety spike higher and he reached a hand out to Castiel's knee. Trust and acceptance flowed freely over their bond, and Castiel felt unworthy.

 _Cas?_ A small voice whispered in Castiel's mind, almost like a prayer. But prayers registered in a distinct way to angels, and this was different. Almost like...

Castiel's eyes went wide as he sucked in a breath. He glanced at Gabriel and Raphael, but neither looked like they'd heard Sam. They were, however, paying attention to the change in Castiel.

 _Cassie? What's wrong?_ Gabriel asked, sitting forward as though preparing to spring into action.

 _Nothing, I..._ Castiel gave Sam a soft smile and covered the tiny hand on his knee with his own, trying to convey that everything was alright. He continued speaking only to the archangels. _Sam just said my name— **he spoke it to me**._

 _He what?!_ Gabriel gripped tight onto Castiel's pant-leg, his eyes glowing with excitement and pride. An angel's first communication to the Host was the equivalent to a human child's first words. In fact, a fledgling had never spoken verbally before—it required physical form and none so young had ever taken a vessel.

Raphael leaned forward from his corner of the couch. _He did that yesterday, too. I heard him call to you both when he awoke from the grace-explosion. The entire Host heard him._

“ _What_ is going on?” Dean's voice made them all jump.

“Nothing,” Castiel and the archangels answered in unison.

“Yeah, that's not suspicious at all.” Dean narrowed his eyes.

“Just angel-bro business, Deano. No crisis,” Gabriel reassured with a little too much enthusiasm.

Dean shook his head, unconvinced. “Is that why your clutching Cas' pants like a security blanket, short-stuff?”

“You're sitting _on_ your baby bro's feet. Who are you to judge?” Gabriel asked defensively.

“So weird,” Dean mumbled. He turned to his brother, pulling the blanket away from the boy's face enough to see him. “You doing okay, dude?”

Sam nodded silently. Dean didn't look convinced, but he let it drop. He tucked the blanket back around Sam's shoulders, and returned to the movie, occasionally shooting wary glances at all of them.

 _Cas?_ Sam's voice sounded in Castiel's head again, stronger and more worried.

Castiel resumed playing with Sam's hair. Gabriel had told him of Sam's pained reaction to angel-radio on the archangel's first morning with them in the bunker. They'd agreed to not try it again until Sam was stronger. But if Sam was capable of reaching out, then perhaps developing wings now allowed him greater access to his abilities.

 _Yes, Sam?_ he replied as carefully as possible.

Sam's wings flared in surprise. _I can hear you!_

 _And I hear you. Am I too loud?_ Castiel swept the boy with his grace, but found no pain—only a tickling energy that pressed back excitedly.

 _No. It sounds like I'm hearing you through headphones, but it's fine._ He gave a small smile. _No wonder you guys always zone out when you hear someone talks this way. You can't hear anything else!_

 _It becomes easier with practice. But, you are correct—when an angel is speaking directly to you, it can be difficult to split your attention._ Castiel noticed Gabriel staring at him expectantly, impatient for an update.

 _Can everyone hear me?_ Sam asked, frowning.

 _No. Do you know how you are directing your words to me right now?_ Castiel couldn't help but trace the boy's furrowed brow, wishing to smooth it away.

 _I was just trying to pray to you...to get your attention._ Sam's gaze traveled over Castiel's face. _Something's wrong._ _What is it?_

 _Nothing is wrong..._ Castiel started reassuring, but Sam cut him off.

 _Yes, there is!_ Fear edged into the concern that poured off the fledgling, and Castiel felt Gabriel start to try and get up.

 _Wait, Gabriel,_ Castiel said privately, stopping the archangel without taking his eyes off his charge. _Sam, there is nothing wrong. I was simply discussing the events of breakfast with Gabriel and Raphael._

 _Uh huh. And, what, the lack of pancakes made you spiral into a dark abyss of guilt?_ Sam's voice was far too cynical when matched with such a youthful face.

Castiel decided to take the boy's statement as an opening. _My brothers are concerned by our reactions to Crowley._

 _Why? Because we didn't let them smite him?_ Sam's aggression made way for confusion. _I mean, sure, who doesn't want to shoot the asshole? But if we shoot everyone we've ever considered an enemy, then we'd have nobody. Not saying that Crowley_ isn't _an enemy, but he's not—_ Sam suddenly looked away, his expression hidden behind a mask of stoicism.

 _Not Lucifer?_ Castiel finished for him. A shudder went through the new wings as they flattened protectively against Sam's back. Small, sharp fingers dug into the fabric covering Castiel's knee.

 _Yeah. Him._ Sam took a shaky breath. _What are we gonna do, Cas?_

Castiel pushed the hair out of Sam's face and tilted the boy's head up until they were looking at each other again. _What would you_ like _to do?_

 _That's...that has nothing..._ Sam floundered for words. _I didn't mean, 'what movie are we gonna watch next?' I meant, 'what is our plan for stopping the devil?' We can't leave the fate of the world in Crowley's grubby hands!_

Castiel's grace tightened in his chest with the insight on why his brothers had been so upset. He could picture Sam pouring over ancient tomes, researching possibilities with the same fervor he'd displayed in the past. The boy bordered on obsessive when lives were on the line, even during simple hunts. He'd memorized spells, exorcisms, sigils, and languages—never knowing what they'd need to be prepared.

But everything was different now.

The thought of Sam teaching himself how to fight or wield weapons with the intent to do battle was nauseating. His physical body was small and untested. Castiel focused his sight past the soft skin and fragile bone to see the grace-form inside. It was less trained than the boy's arms and legs. And his wings only had the form and protection given to them by Raphael. He looked impossibly young.

 _Cas? Cas!?_ Sam's voice broke through his thoughts with the volume of an angel's unfiltered true-voice. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gabriel wince.

 _Damn, that kid's got a set of metaphoric lungs on him!_ Gabriel whispered to the seraph.

Castiel shook his head to clear it, and sighed. _I am sorry, Sam. I was lost in thought for a moment._

 _Like an idea on what to do?_ Sam sounded so painfully hopeful.

Gabriel gave a tiny nod, indicating that he was still hearing the boy. No wonder—panic had Sam loudly projecting. Castiel sealed the room with his grace, protecting their privacy from outsiders.

 _Actually, yes. I did have an idea,_ Castiel opened his end of the conversation to both of his brothers. It would take all of them working together to carry out his plan. He slowly ran his palm over the flattened wings, anticipating Sam's displeasure. _I believe we should let the archangels deal with their brother. And you can focus on relaxing and learning and getting to know your mother._

Sure enough, Sam's wings puffed out in anger. _That's your plan? Trust Heaven to take care of everything? How is that_ not _going to lead directly to a second biblical apocalypse? And we just, what, take a vacation?_

 _Then what would you like to do?_ Castiel asked again, matching Sam's ire with calm patience.

 _Anything would be better than that!_ Sam answered, scowling. _I can't do nothing while he's out there!_

_Samuel, he is not your responsibility. He is not Dean or Mary's responsibility. If anything, he is mine, but I have been charged with a much more important task._

A flutter of panic jolted through the boy. _Are you...are you being called back to Heaven?_

 _What?_ _No!_ Castiel's eyebrows arched high in surprise, and rushed to reassure the bright swirl of grace and soul churning with distress. _Even if Michael were to order my return, I would not comply. And Gabriel would never allow it either. No—there is no acceptable scenario that ends with my leaving._

 _But you said..._ Sam's breath hitched and his words stalled for a second. _What could possibly be more important than Lucifer walking free on the Earth?_

Castiel leaned closer, never breaking eye contact. _You._

Sam blinked. _Me? No, Cas, I'm definitely not more imp—_

_Yes, Samuel Winchester. You are far more important than Lucifer._

_How can—_

_To. Me._ Castiel spoke with stern authority, pausing between drawn out words to make sure Sam understood. _You are more important to me._

The boy went completely still—even his grace froze. There was no flood of thoughts or emotions at the angel's declaration. Only silence echoed back over their mental link.

 _Whoa, dude. I think you broke the fledgling._ Gabriel's voice was quiet in Castiel's mind. He looked quickly at the archangel, worried he'd done something wrong, but Gabriel continued before he could speak. _Give him some time to work through the idea that someone besides his brother thinks he's worth protecting. And not in a 'we need you to survive for our plans' kind of way._

Castiel nodded. He smoothed his hand over the small back and began tracing words in Enochian. The boy's grace already had areas twisted out of place since being worked on only hours ago, and he decided to let the surer hands of the archangels fix it later. Right now, he just wanted Sam to relax and feel safe.

* * *

Sam closed his eyes and let the well-known sounds of the movie wash over him. He could recite every word, and most lines were wrapped in numerous memories of banter with friends. Some were used more often than others.

“ _I love you._ ”  
“ _I know._ ”

Action music and the clash of ongoing space battles blended together. Sam existed inside a bubble of pure sounds, his thoughts taking the form of notes and blasters and the crackle of lightsabers. It was easier—familiar and peaceful and safe.

“ _I am your father._ ”

A gasp not coming from the film broke the pattern of expected sounds. Sam's eyes snapped open and the world dropped back into place around him. It took a second to for his brain to reform the world around him, but gradually the lights took shape and became people. People with faces and names he recognized.

“What!?” The shocked voice belonged to Raphael. He was standing, wings touching the ceiling in a display of surprise. Sam wasn't sure how he knew that, but he did.

“Sit down, old man, before you hurt yourself.” Gabriel teased, throwing a pillow at the other archangel. It bounced off his chest and fell unnoticed to the ground.

“Man, maybe you guys should do movie nights with the angels upstairs,” Dean laughed. “It might help some of them lighten up a bit. Get that stick out of their collective holy asses.”

“Excellent plan. Discuss later. Shh!” Gabriel waved his hand and Raphael was knocked back into the couch. “Now stay there and watch till the end.”

Everyone's laughter was muffled to Sam, like he was listening through water. He kept his eyes on Gabriel—the archangel made a show of being engrossed in the movie, but kept sneaking glances at Raphael to see his reactions. There was no hiding the adoration there, nor the amazement of someone getting a second chance.

Gabriel's eyes darted to Sam, and there was no time to look away. Sam hunched down in his blanket when a series of expressions crossed the archangel's face too fast for him to interpret. It settled on a soft smile tinged with worry. He tilted his head as though to ask, “are you okay?”

Sam gave a slight nod and burrowed down further until his face was covered with cloth. A hand rubbed his shoulder, but there were no words spoken aloud or over angel-radio. Since Sam's change, Castiel had taken to using physical contact to convey even more than his words.

Words like, “ _You are more important to me._ ”

Sam's mind jolted, trying to scramble away from its own line of thought. But all he could hear now was Castiel saying words that made no sense. Why would he say that? None of them were _more_ important than the lives they saved.

Besides, Dean had told him of his conversation with Chuck—God Himself had entrusted the care of His world to the Winchesters. Of course, seconds later God had changed Sam into the least capable “world protector” possible. It was like the worst test imaginable.

The urge to move hit him and Sam managed to hold off until he heard the credits start. He pushed the blanket away and sat up as he tried to tug his feet free from Dean's weight. Nothing happened.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” Dean's grin grated on his nerves, but then the hunter shifted. Sam's feet were pinched under the increased weight, and no amount of effort could move them. A few others laughed at their antics as they got up to stretch.

“Move, Dean,” Sam managed to say through gritted teeth. He needed to get up. He needed to go to the bathroom. He needed five minutes alone. And he needed all of that _now!_

Green eyes sharpened at Sam's tone and studied him critically. The pressure on his feet disappeared, as did the blanket wrapped under his toes. “Good to go, Sammy,” Dean assured him. “Do you need your shoes?”

Sam pushed off the couch and landed on the carpet. His legs felt hollow. “Yeah,” he grunted and took the offered items. Without looking at anyone else, Sam made his way through the quiet room and slipped into the hallway.

It was a struggle to not take off running through the bunker, just to know he could. But running would have to wait until he had shoes on and he wasn't sliding around in socks. And he wasn't stopping to put on shoes until he was safely in the privacy of a bathroom. People didn't follow him there.

He went to the one with the bathtub—the others rarely used it and it had a lock. It clicked into place and Sam leaned his forehead against the cool door. Those five minutes started now.

All the bathrooms now contained a small stool—a humiliating, but necessary, requirement that kept Sam independent. It took less than a minute to finish his business and push the stool over to reach the sink. He washed his hands in hot water that turned his skin red, and finally looked up at his reflection.

It still startled him—a split second of panic when he didn't recognize the face staring back at him. Angles and strength had been replaced with delicate, round softness. The hazel of his eyes contained brighter greens and deeper blues.

Something moved behind him and he almost fell into the mirror. A few frantic heartbeats passed and Sam realized it was his wings. He'd forgotten about them for over an hour.

Figuring he had at least two more minutes of alone-time, Sam climbed up onto the sink and turned to see his back. They looked nothing like the intricately patterned and brilliantly colored wings he'd seen on archangels or seraphs. These were... _ugly—_ cartoonish, texture-less, and useless. A general lump of vaguely violet light.

Gabriel had once explained how their wing's form was built through training and use. That feathers were just grace funneled into pathways. Sam wished he'd asked more questions.

He reached over his shoulder until his fingers brushed against the barrier that coated the wings. It felt like the static left behind on an old-fashioned television when it was first turned off. The kind he'd grown up with in motel rooms and Bobby' house.

Holding it firmly, Sam stretched it around his side so he could see it without the mirror. It felt like a gel pack that had no temperature—not warm, not cold, and no degree in between. Just static and squishy and purpley-white.

“Awesome,” Sam whispered sarcastically under his breath. He might feel differently about them later—after he'd learned to use them and they'd grown into something remotely similar to any other angel. But until then, these bastards had brought him agony for hours before busting free along his spine. And they were tattle-tales, revealing Sam's inner thoughts and emotions to anyone who could see.

Releasing the weird new appendage, Sam sat straight up so he was sideways to the mirror. Hopefully, he'd be able to hide them away like the others. But maybe he could try to control them a little on his own.

Glaring, Sam tried to make the ugly things fold against his back. Nothing.

 _Move_ , he thought. Not even a twitch.

Sam tried to make them span out instead, but it was useless. He sighed and tugged on the part that drooped down to his lower back. “You guys suck.”

The wings flared outward as though annoyed with his analysis and knocked Sam off the sink. He twisted impossibly in midair and landed heavily on his knees and palms. Sam sent a silent _thank you_ to Chuck that he hadn't busted his face on the cement. The last thing he needed to do was explain that he'd fallen off the sink to the rabidly protective angels and humans.

Wincing, he shifted so he could sit on his butt. He hissed as sharp tiny pains erupted from the places he'd landed. Lifting his palms into the light, Sam gasped to see his skin covered in scrapes. His knees were in the same condition—pants shredded, skin bleeding. It looked like he'd fallen in a parking lot after running and tripping.

 _Shit!_ Sam mentally screamed at himself. There was no time to change pants, and no way to hide his hands. How had he even done so much damage in so little a fall?

Footsteps thundered through the hall, and the door handle jiggled. Sam held his breath. Then, someone knocked at the door. _Guess my five minutes are up._

* * *

 

As soon as Sam left the room, Dean turned on Castiel. “What the hell was that about?” he demanded in a low voice so little brothers couldn't hear. “Don't think for a second that I didn't notice all the weird looks and nods you kept giving each other the whole time.”

“Dean...” Castiel started.

“We're supposed to be relaxing, so why is Sam wound tight enough to snap?” Dean pushed, knowing the angel was about to try and placate him with some bullshit. But he knew his brother, and Dean didn't have time to work his way through some cryptically vague answer. He'd marked the time, and they had five minutes to explain so he could go check on the kid.

“He's frustrated,” Gabriel answered instead. Dean waved for him to elaborate, and the archangel seemed to understand his urgency. “It's Lucifer—Sam thinks it's his responsibility to make sure the world is safe from my brother.”

Dean closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What else?”

“What do you mean?” Gabriel asked.

Dean pushed the ottoman away with his feet and stood up. His watch said he had three minutes left. “I mean he wouldn't look at anyone when he ran from the room. He's not rushing off because he's determined to do research. _That_ was not about Lucifer.”

“I said something to him,” Castiel said quietly.

When Dean turned to the angel, he was surprised to find blue eyes staring steadily up at him. “What? And when? When did you talk about _any_ of this?”

“During the movie.”

Dean felt a muscle twitch in his cheek in the following seconds of silence. “You weren't whispering.” It wasn't a question.

“No,” Castiel admitted, never looking away. “He used angel-radio to ask me something and we ended up having a conversation.”

“So Sam is...right, okay,” Dean nodded quickly to himself. Sam was able to use telepathy now with the other angels—wasn't that perfect. He squashed down the spike of jealousy over someone else being able to silently communicate with his brother. _Not the time or place._ “What did you say, Cas?”

“I told him he was more important to me than Lucifer.”

Dean felt time slow down as he processed the full meaning of the statement. Oh... _Oh!_ “Shit, Cas. What happened to keeping things light and easy?” he exhaled and checked his watch. One minute.

“Sammy's upset because you told him he's more important than the devil?” Mary asked hesitantly. Dean hated hearing the pain in her voice.

“Mom,” his mind raced for the right way to explain, “Sam sacrificed himself to centuries of torture at the hands of two archangels. When we got him out, he saw Lucifer everywhere. And after everything, when the world was ending _again_ , he went back to the Cage. He thought God was sending him visions telling Sam to get Lucifer's help.”

“And?” Her voice broke.

“And it was a trap. Lucifer sent the visions to lure him there.” Dean said. Thirty seconds. Plus, he still had to find Sam.

“Like when Vader sent Luke the false vision to lure him to Cloud City,” Raphael commented in deep thought.

Dean stared at the archangel, wondering what happened to the guy he'd first trapped in holy fire all those years ago with Castiel. “Yeah, pretty much,” he agreed, out of time. “Alright, let's take a little break. I'm gonna find Sam and make sure he's okay. You guys just...hang out here, okay? I may need some time.”

“Well, it's one o'clock now. I could start working on lunch,” Gabriel suggested.

Dean grimaced—he was still stuffed, but if the guy wanted to cook then who was Dean to say no? Besides, he needed to find Sam. It didn't matter what everyone else did as long as it involved staying away. “Good plan, Gabe.” He flashed a thumbs-up to the archangel and bent to give Mary a kiss on the cheek before taking off in search of his brother.

He checked Sam's personal bedroom first, unsurprised to find it empty. Stepping silently through the hallway, he listened for any hint of the kid's location. The closest bathroom was empty. So was the next one. He was contemplating the chances that Sam may have actually gone outside when he heard it—a crash that sent him sprinting.

The door was closed and Dean automatically tried the handle. Finding it locked made him pause and take a breath. If Sam locked the door, it meant he wanted privacy. But Dean couldn't ignore the crash noise. So, he knocked gently on the door.

“Sammy? You okay, man?” he called. He gave Sam five seconds to respond before he'd pick the lock.

Leaning his head against the door, Dean heard shuffling sounds on the other side. When the lock clicked, he stepped back but the door didn't open. “Sammy? I'm coming in.”

“Okay,” came the muffled response.

Dean opened the door and carefully looked inside. His eyes went immediately to the small figure standing in the middle of the room. The image made him want to laugh, cry, and scream all at the same time.

Somehow, Sam had managed to injure himself in under ten minutes. The knees of his pants were torn and damp with blood. It took another second for Dean to realize the kid was cradling his hands to his chest.

“Man, what happened?” Dean asked, shutting the door. He guided Sam to stand in front of him as he sat on the toilet seat. The kid wouldn't meet his eyes, but allowed Dean to gently take his hands for inspection. “Whoa! Sam, what happened?” he repeated at the sight of scraped skin.

“I fell,” Sam said, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“Well, I didn't think you were bitch-slapping sandpaper.” Dean pulled a first aid kit out from under the sink and started cleaning the wounds. Sam mumbled something too low for Dean to hear. “What was that?”

“I...” Sam took a deep breath, “I said, 'I fell off the sink.'”

“The sink?” Dean stared at him. “What were you doing _on_ the sink?” Sam shrugged and looked at his hands. He winced when Dean dabbed alcohol over one of the cuts.

Instead of pushing for an answer, Dean focused on his task. Patience was usually the key to getting Sam to talk. Not that patience was the hunter's strongest trait, but he could quiet his urgency if it meant helping his brother.

So, he took his time cleaning the tiny palms, making sure all the dirt was gone and the bleeding stopped before coating them in ointment. He knew one of the angels would heal everything as soon as they returned, but the act of tending to Sam's wounds was sacred. When he finished, Dean pulled the stool over and helped Sam sit so he could get a look at his knees. _How did he do this falling three feet?_ he wondered to himself. It seemed like too much damage for a simple fall.

“I wanted to see my...back.” The words were so quiet, Dean almost missed them. When he registered what Sam had said, his worry ratcheted up even higher. He hated it every time his brother was injured, but seeing welts and bruises and burns on the kid had taken that feeling to a new level.

“Is it still hurting?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even. Sam shook his head, and stayed quiet for a minute while Dean pushed the cloth pants up the scrawny legs. The first touch of alcohol had Sam flinching but he didn't pull away. “Sorry,” Dean said, trying to be both gentle and thorough.

“I wanted to see the wings,” Sam finally answered. He kept his ointment-covered hands in his lap, fingers twitching like they wanted to pick at his shirt before the pain reminded him it wasn't a good idea.

Dean huffed a laugh. “You climbed up on the sink to admire your wings and fell, huh? And?”

“And what?”

“Are they _glorious_?” he asked with a grin.

“Dean...” Sam shook his head, exasperated.

“No, seriously,” Dean stopped him, still smiling. He tapped the kid's chin so he'd look up. “I can't see them, Sammy. What do they look like? Are they badass? Fluffy?”

Sam sighed. “They're dumb. And ugly.”

“What?!” Dean put the swabs aside and focused on Sam. No way was anything about his brother dumb or ugly—not on his watch. “They are not.”

Sam scowled at him through his mess of hair. “How do you know? You can't see them.”

“Because they're yours,” Dean said. He ruffled the floppy curls and laughed as Sam tried to push him away with the backs of his curled up hands. “And because I'm the only one who gets to call you dumb and ugly.”

“You're dumb and ugly,” Sam muttered just loud enough for Dean to hear.

Dean just laughed again. “The way I understood it, the angels said you won't get your feathers until you start angel-kindergarten, or something. So, I can see why they may not be pretty enough for you yet. But why do you think they're dumb? Dude—they're wings. By definition, they are awesome.”

“Well, they're not. I have zero control over them. When I want them to move, they don't. And when I want them to stay still, they're doing an interpretive dance of my feelings.”

"You'll learn. Sammy, you are the biggest nerd on the planet. You gotta be excited by the chance to be an honor student again.”

“I don't have time to train, Dean. The angels have a fucked up sense of time because they've been around for longer than our solar system. They didn't even think I'd get these for a few more centuries! If they think I'm gonna just hang out for decades of training...” Sam gave a frustrated groan and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. “Lucifer could make a move any _second_. Crowley was right—we've done nothing. We knew for days before the British invasion that Lucifer was alive and free. And now he's got a vessel. We don't have centuries—we may not even have weeks!”

Dean hated hearing the fear in his brother's voice.

He couldn't deny that he'd pushed down his own need for action in the days before Sam's kidnapping. There was just too much going on, though, with Sam's change, and the return of Mary and Gabriel. It's not like Dean was willing to launch on a solo-mission when his brother could barely sleep through the night.

But seeing Sam get hurt, knowing the helplessness they'd all felt during the entire twenty-four hours they'd been separated, was enough to make Dean reconsider hunting entirely—at least for a time. Not with Sam in such a vulnerable state.

Dean braced his hands on the thin, knobby shoulders. _Jesus, the kid's shaking,_ he thought as he rubbed some warmth back into his brother's arms. “Listen, Sam. I know this hasn't been easy for you. But it's okay to give yourself time to figure this stuff out. Lucifer can wait—and if he doesn't, then his brothers can take care of it.”

Sam let out an empty laugh. “You sound like Cas.”

“Good,” Dean said, sliding his hands down to encircle Sam's wrists. The kid was starting to fidget like he wanted to dig into his palm. Not a good idea in current circumstances. “Because I agree with him—you _are_ more important than that son-of-a-bitch archangel.”

Sam's head shot up in surprise. “How...?”

“Hey, I may not have cool psychic powers or telepathy, but I have ways.” Dean smiled and leaned in closer. “We've got to stop this, Sammy. This cycle you and I have of taking turns at dying for the crisis-of-the-year sucks.”

“It's not like we plan these things, Dean,” Sam said, shaking his head.

“We may not plan them, but that's become our go-to solution. And I'm done with it.” Dean felt something twist around his chest as he spoke the words. It was a fear that had wrapped its way around him, growing tighter over the years. It strangled him now—one last attempt at keeping the words inside. But it failed, and suddenly Dean could breathe.

Sam's arms twitched under Dean's palms, like he was going to pull away. Dean rubbed the wrists with his thumbs, trying to keep the kid calm. “'Done with it'? What's that supposed to mean?” Sam asked with a shaky voice.

“I'm saying that I'm done—no more hunting. I'm officially retired as of this moment. Because Cas is right.” Dean pressed their foreheads together and knew he was doing the right thing when he felt Sam lean into him. He spoke just above a whisper. “Dude, you know you've been my number one priority since you were born, right?”

“Because Dad—”

“I didn't say 'since you were six months.' I said 'born.' Those first six months I spent plastered to mom's side learning how to take care of you. You've been mine since day one, and I'm tired of seeing us give up everything. So I retire, you'll take flying lessons,” he gave a dramatic shudder at the thought of flying, “and neither of us will be involved in the Lucifer problem.”

“Dean...” Sam hesitated and sat back a little. “This is our life.”

Dean didn't follow, but he didn't move away either. “Yes, exactly! My life didn't end with a soul-bomb, your life didn't end with a crumbling soul. Mom's life didn't end in a nursery fire. Cas and Gabe's lives didn't end with Lucifer.”

Sam shook his head. “But other lives _will_ end with Lucifer if—”

“Sammy, you just fell off a sink and shredded your pants,” Dean cut him off. “I'm not teasing you here, but what exactly do you think you can do against Lucifer right now? Hell, what would we do even if Chuck hadn't shrunk you? We don't have anything to go against an archangel.”

“We'd think of something,” Sam insisted weakly, but Dean saw him wavering. The kid's eyes were darting around as he tried to think up an argument.

“And which one of us would die this time, hmm? You? Me? Cas?” Dean paused until Sam looked back at him. “What about Mom? She's a hunter. You think she'd sit out on a hunt against the devil who hurt her son?”

Sam closed his mouth and blinked rapidly as he slowly shook his head. Dean gave him space to get his breathing under control. A glance at his watch told him they'd been talking for almost twenty minutes. He was surprised the others had listened to him.

“You really think you could do it? Give up hunting?” Sam had the same tone of voice he'd used when first speculating about the existence of angels—excited and reverent, but almost afraid to hope. He sounded like Dean had offered him something holy.

“If it means getting to live a life with you and Mom and Cas, then abso-fuckin-lutely. And that doesn't mean we gotta stop helping people. Maybe we'll start the first hunter's bed and breakfast, complete with research library and rare weapons collection. We could be like really fancy Bobbys!” As Dean said the words, he started to really picture it for himself. And he found he liked what he saw.

“It sounds like you've thought about it before,” Sam said quietly.

“Maybe, a time or two.” Dean smiled. “So, what do you say? Willing to give it a try?”

“It might be hard to explain to people why I'm retired as a six year old,” Sam said wryly, trying not to smile back.

“But it would be worth it to see their faces.” Dean stood and stretched. The crack from his back sounded obscenely loud in the small bathroom. “Come on, dude. We can work out all the details later. Let's not make Mom wait anymore to see _Return of the Jedi_.”

“Wait,” Sam said as he hopped off the stool. He winced as his knees straightened. “I need my shoes.”

“I'll get them. I didn't just pick grit out of your hands so you can get shoe-germs all over them.” Dean groaned as he bent down to get the tiny sneakers, but froze when he saw something on the floor. There were four new indents crushed into the tile. Flecks of blood mixed with dust in the center of each. “Sam, is this where you fell?”

Sam walked over in his socks and looked at the holes with the same shock Dean felt. “Whoa, did I do that to the floor?”

“How? _I_ don't weigh enough to dent freaking _tile_ if I fell. You probably couldn't dent it if you tried!” Dean shook his head. “You sure you just fell?”

“I thought so,” Sam bit his lip and didn't look up, “I got angry, and the wings knocked me off the sink. But as I fell, I think they turned me so I wouldn't hit my head? I don't know...it happened really fast.”

“Yeah, we're definitely asking Gabe. Come on, let's go let the archangels kiss your boo boos.”

“Be nice, or I'll take you flying with me when I learn how.”

Dean shuddered—it would be so much worse than when he'd taught Sam to drive in the Impala. Baby hadn't shifted gears right for a week afterwards. He stared down into hazel eyes. They were dry now and shining with mischief. “You're a menace.”

Sam just snorted a laugh and nodded in agreement. “I learned from the best.”

“That you did.”

They made the slow trek back to the movie room, continuing to exchange insults the whole way. The room was suspiciously quiet when the got there, although the reason was fairly obvious—only Castiel and Raphael were left.

“Where's the pipsqueak? Did he decide to cook lunch after all?” Dean dropped the ridiculously little shoes next to their mother's pair. He noticed Sam was staying right against the back of his leg.

Castiel's eyes narrowed as they moved further into the room. “He and your mother went to the kitchen to 'putter around.'” He stared closer at Sam. “I assumed he meant he was building a golf course off the pantry. What happened?”

“He's...what?” Dean tried to think past the idea of Gabriel golfing in his kitchen. Then his brain caught back up and he looked apologetically at Sam. He'd hoped to delay the inevitable by a few more minutes than zero. “Sam had a little accident. I cleaned him up, but just alcohol and neosporin.”

Raphael held a hand out. “May I?”

Fingers held tightly to Dean's pant leg and he heard a small hiss of pain. He looked down and saw Sam studying the archangel, weighing his options. Finally, the kid nodded and padded over pillows to place his hand in the Healer's palm.

Raphael hummed as he gently inspected the wounds. Nodding, he then bent down to look at the knees. The archangel frowned and repeated Castiel's question, “What happened?”

Sam squirmed as he recounted the sink story. Dean grinned. “I think your wings were insulted and they chucked you off the counter.” He meant it as a joke, but Castiel seemed to agree. Well, partially agree anyway.

“It's possible they were responding to your frustration,” the seraph speculated. “I am glad you did not acquire anything worse than a scrape.”

“He did,” Raphael said, still frowning. “His left knee has a microscopic fracture. It would not register on human medical equipment, but I can see it. May I heal you, Samuel?”

Sam nodded, too stunned by Raphael's injury assessment to be nervous. The archangel held the kid's hands between his own and a white glow emanated from them. Moving one hand down, Raphael held his palm above the torn knees and repaired the damage to skin and bone. Even the pants were fixed.

“Thanks,” Sam said with a small smile and started to move away. Raphael's grip on his hand stayed firm.

“Just a moment, Samuel. I need to check your wings.” He slowly turned Sam around to see his back and let out a rolling chuckle. “You are going to be just as bad as Gabriel. We will groom these this afternoon. I need to reapply the protective barrier anyway.”

Sam looked up at Dean with his patent-puppy eyes, but Dean threw his hands up and backed away. “Don't look at me! I got no authority on wing-stuff. And since you are clearly in capable hands and not in danger of climbing on counters, I'm gonna make sure Gabriel isn't cooking another feast.” He threw a look at Castiel. “Or playing golf in the kitchen.”

Dean looked again at Sam, giving the kid a second to let him know if he wasn't okay with being left alone. Sam gave him the all-clear nod, so Dean made his way to the kitchen. He thought maybe they had decided to go somewhere else when the hallway outside his favorite room wasn't filled with the scent of food.

Peering inside, he was surprised to find that Gabriel and Mary _were_ there, but they weren't cooking. Instead, they were sitting at the table and talking over cups of coffee. Both heads swiveled his direction when he cleared his throat. “Hey folks,” he said, grabbing a cup of coffee for himself.

“How is he?” Mary asked.

“He's okay. We talked, and uh...Gabe, how would you feel about making a cake?”

The archangel raised an eyebrow. “What kind of cake?”

“A retirement cake,” Dean said, suddenly nervous to say it out loud to someone besides Sam. “I'm giving up hunting. We can help people in a support capacity from here. But I can't risk losing him or Mom to this life—not after we've been given a second chance. We're leaving Lucifer to Heaven. I want to be kept in the loop, but I don't want to be involved unless he comes after us.”

“Wow. Yeah. Wow.” Gabriel nodded quickly. “I can do that—keep you updated _and_ make a cake.”

“Sam really agreed to this?” Mary asked, unconvinced. Dean didn't blame her. She'd grown up in the life, and understood it usually only ended in a hunter's funeral.

“Sam is scared,” Dean explained as he sat next to her. “Lucifer being free is his worst nightmare come to life. And he's always been made to face his fears head-on. Literally.” He scoffed at a childhood memory, truly recognizing how horrifying the whole thing had been for Sam. “When he first learned about supernatural stuff, Sam was always thinking there were monsters under his bed or in closets. Dad gave him a .45.”

“Comforting,” Gabriel said darkly.

Mary looked ready to explode. “Just when I thought I couldn't be angrier at him...”

“What I'm trying to say,” Dean rushed on, not wanting this to turn into a conversation about John, “is that Sam doesn't know how to sit out of a crisis. Not anymore, at least. This is all we know. And if we want Sam to actually give this a chance—living a life free of constant fighting and fear and danger—then I can't be running off hunting some wendigo by myself. We've been a package deal since day one, and that hasn't changed.”

“So, where big brother goes, little brother follows?” Gabriel mused. “Let me tell you—fledglings are a full-time handful even in heaven. Retirement may turn out to be harder than hunting.”

“Well, unlike Sammy, I ain't getting any younger. And hunters don't have long life expectancies.” Dean grinned, warming up to the idea. “I want to be there for this. His childhood was full of dirty motels and abandoned homes and knowing how to avoid CPS. He deserves better this time.”

“You too, kiddo,” Gabriel said softly.

"What?” Dean asked, almost choking on his coffee. Why did people feel the need to say shit like that when he'd just taken a drink?

“That was your childhood too,” the archangel pointed out. “You both deserved better.”

Dean pushed down the knee-jerk denial when he caught the storm on his mother's face. Instead, he just nodded and smiled again. “Well, bring 'better' on!”

“So what can we do?” Mary asked in a tight voice. Her smile wobbled and her eyes shined with tears, but she fought through it. Dean reached over and covered her hand with his own.

Gabriel leaned back in his chair, and ran a hand through his hair. “I'd say, right now, we establish that no one is going anywhere. Sam was worried about Cas returning to Heaven, which isn't happening. I'm not going anywhere either, if anyone was wondering.”

“Really?” Dean sat up. He hadn't thought about it much, but he'd always figured the archangel was just there to get Sam stabilized. That he'd probably leave in a month or so, then stop by once in a while to check on them.

Gabriel tilted his head as he looked at Dean with bright amber eyes. “You thought I'd leave?”

“I wasn't sure. You don't seem like the 'settle down' type of archangel,” Dean said with a shrug.

“I never had a reason. Now I do.”

Dean knew his surprise showed. “That simple, huh?”

“Yup!” Gabriel said happily, then grew serious. “Listen, I know we had a strong 'frenemies' thing going before, but I always liked you boneheads. And now, you've become the closest thing to family I've had since leaving Heaven. Dad sent me here for a reason—to take care of the Winchesters. Including Castiel, who is now under my authority for whatever that's worth. I'm in it for the long-haul, folks. Get used to it!” He finished with a wink.

“Hey, I could get used to anything if you keep cooking the way you do!” Dean promised.

“I'm not above using every tool at my disposal to bribe people into my corner. And,” he paused and let the mischievous grin form slowly, “speaking of bribes.”

“What?” Dean asked warily. A glance at Mary proved she had no idea what the archangel was referring to either.

“I heard you dug pretty deep into the bribery bag and promised Sammy a dog yesterday,” Gabriel whispered like they were conspirators. “It just so happens that I know a god who breeds a very special line of canines.”

“What, like a hellhound?” Dean blurted out. Sweet baby J, he _had_ promised Sam a dog, hadn't he. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

Gabriel smacked him on the arm, almost knocking Dean out of his chair. “Why does everyone assume I'm going to bring him a dangerous creature? No, not like a hellhound! But it wouldn't be like any dog you've ever seen.”

“In what way?” Dean almost hesitated to ask.

“In a way that it would be able to keep up with a fledgling and not get hurt. These pups are as smart as humans. Loyal and protective and a wee bit magical.” Gabriel clasped his hands together and pleaded. “Please, Deano! Let me make some calls today, and I'll give you the details before you decide. If you say no, then we can go to the shelter or whatever you'd planned. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Dean sighed—they were getting a damn dog.

“Hey, dogs are awesome!” Gabriel insisted, standing up and refilling his mug. “Besides being able to help protect the kid, I think it will help give Sam some stability. Nothing says 'settling down' like getting a pet.”

“Guess not,” Dean muttered, then cleared his throat. “So, Mom—you ready for this?”

Mary smiled and framed his face with her delicate hands. “Absolutely, sweetheart.” Rising up on her toes, she kissed his forehead. “Now, I believe you owe me a third movie. I've waited long enough for it!”

“Yes, ma'am!” He gave her a mock-salute, and grinned as she linked elbows with Gabriel. The two skipped into the hallway, laughing together. _We've all waited long enough for this._

 


	8. Well I'm Scared of What's Behind and What's Before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHOUT OUT to my beta-peeps: @ScrollingKingfisher and @Nathyfaith!!! You two keep me on the semi-straight and narrow, and prevent super embarassing mistakes from making their way into my stories :)
> 
> ALSO, a big-ol' WEEPING THANK YOU to @MonPetitTresor for engaging in a free-for-all motivational session on Tumblr! You, sir, are an angel sent by Chuck <3 This chapter is dedicated to you and your sweetie (let him know that this was ALMOST dedicated JUST to him...because you waxed on and on about how unmotivated you were, and then proceeded to post THREE NEW THINGS!! And *I* had to NOT read them so I could get this finished!!). 
> 
> One more chapter to go on this story...and then we are MOVING ON to some new things :)  
> Thanks to everyone who has continued to read and comment and message me. Y'all give me life <3

Raphael felt Samuel force himself to relax as Dean walked out the door. Less-controlled were his wings, which bunched into a balled-up mess against his thin shoulders. The boy was nervous, but determined to pretend otherwise.

Letting go of Samuel's wrist, the Healer trailed his fingertips down the boy's spine and pressed against the pressure points just above where his wings emerged. There was a soft gasp of surprise as the bundled grace suddenly relaxed and laid flat across Samuel's back. “ **What doing?** ” he asked, twisting around to see what was happening.

“ **Your wings will hurt if left in such a state,** ” Raphael explained. “ **I am simply straightening them out until we can work on them properly.** ” Besides, he was unable to resist a little grooming while they waited—they had about two and a half centuries to make up for with this fledgling.

Samuel grunted, but remained still. The Healer hummed as he worked, smoothing out the ruffled grace and bolstering the protective coating. Now that the wounds were healed, Raphael could appreciate the sheer amount of raw power contained in the young angel. When fully-grown, Samuel would likely rival Lucifer in strength and ability.

_Is he alright, brother?_ Castiel asked privately.

Raphael nodded. _He is very strong—even more than I first estimated. We will need to start his training before his grace grows beyond his ability to control. And if his wings are beginning to propel him around, then he may start flight sooner than I'd thought._

_He does not look happy,_ Castiel pointed out.

_I have not yet won his trust. He is only allowing this because you are present,_ Raphael told him. The archangel continued to sift through the grace with one hand while the other began to lightly scratch the base of Samuel's neck. The muscles slowly loosened and Raphael felt ridiculously happy when the child leaned back against his knees. _This is good for him. His grace will soon begin seeking out interaction with other angels. I do not want him to fight that instinct when it grows stronger. Has he always been averse to touch?_

_I am not sure._ Castiel sat forward, choosing his words carefully. _It is possible he had issues with physical interaction in his earlier years. I did not know him as well as I should have before the Apocalypse. Since the Cage, however, he has definitely withdrawn more, and abhorred being touched by any angel's grace. Including my own._

Raphael pressed his lips together, preventing a sigh from escaping. It was one thing to hear Michael lament his actions from the Cage—it was another to witness the consequences of those actions. He'd felt the scars between soul and grace, and he could only imagine what that soul had looked like before their Father's healing. For the first time, he felt anger burn hot in his belly at the thought of his older brothers.

_He has been doing better, though,_ Castiel's calm voice cooled Raphael's ire. _Sam is now more apt to accept physical comfort than he was two weeks ago. He even began enjoying our daily grooming sessions._

_Good! I find fledglings will often reach a stage where they rarely wish to be groomed when there are other things they prefer getting into._ Raphael smiled fondly. _This one really_ is _a lot like Gabriel. And he was a professional pouter. I look forward to seeing Gabriel try to deal with a head-strong fledgling of Samuel's power and temperament._

“Are you both talking about me?” Samuel interrupted with an impressive glare aimed at Castiel. “I can hear...whispering, or something.”

Raphael chuckled and patted the boy's shoulder. “I was just telling Castiel how strong you are.”

Samuel turned to stare suspiciously at him, but suddenly seemed to realize how close they were. Hazel eyes widened as he stepped back and promptly tripped into a pile of pillows. Raphael raised an eyebrow in amusement, but didn't move toward him. He put a hand up when he saw Castiel swing his legs onto the floor. It made the seraph pause, clearly torn between obedience and the urge to check on his charge.

“Are you okay, Sam?” Castiel asked, unable to keep quiet.

“Ugh,” Samuel groaned in frustration from the floor. He made no move to get up. “I'm really starting to hate that question.”

“I'm sorry,” Castiel quickly responded, but Samuel waved him off.

“No, don't—it's cool, Cas. I'm fine,” the boy mumbled into a pillow.

Raphael heard the others leave the kitchen and leaned back into the cushions. “Your family is returning. Do you wish to remain on the floor for the next film?” he asked casually.

Castiel shot him a worried look. _What are you doing?_

_Relax, brother. He is alright—simply embarrassed at being startled._ Raphael was proven correct when Samuel groaned again.

“I really planned on just dying here with any dignity I have left. Can't you just pile more pillows on top of me so I can't be seen?” he pleaded, pulling one of the nearby pillows over his head.

Raphael gestured with his hand, and all the pillows of the room rose into the air. They swarmed to the boy and buried him. They were graced with a quiet squeal from underneath, followed by a muffled, “I did not mean that literally!”

The archangel winked at Castiel, whose worry now softened in amusement. “My apologies, Samuel,” he said loud enough to be heard through the mountain of stuffing. “I must have misunderstood. I do not have the same grasp on human humor as my brothers.”

Gabriel entered the room, followed closely by the other two Winchesters. Raphael took pleasure in the shocked expression on the younger archangel's face. He stared with an open mouth at the moving mound. “Do I want to know?”

Dean shouldered past the Messenger to take in the scene. His face twisted as he tried not to laugh. “What the hell, Sammy!” he said as he picked pillows off the top and aimed them at Castiel's head. The seraph batted each back to the floor. “This is the worst pillow fort I've ever seen. Dude, I know I taught you better than this!”

When the last pillow was removed, Samuel rolled onto his back and stared up at his brother. “I was hoping for an honorable death before you found me.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Get up,” he said, grabbing the boy's hands and pulling him to his feet. “No dying before I get a retirement cake!”

“Not pie?” Samuel asked, pulling his hands back.

Dean paused, then turned to Gabriel. “I'm changing my order—I want retirement pie instead.”

“You got it,” Gabriel said as he kicked a path through the strewn pillows. “Any particular flavor or type?”

“All of them. One of each!”

“Dean!” Samuel sounded horrified. “Don't tell him that! He'll _do_ it, and you know it!”

“So?” Dean plopped back down on the couch next to Raphael, nudging him with a sharp elbow. “You only retire once, am I right?” The Healer was unsure what exactly 'retirement' entailed, but it seemed important to humans.

“Retire?” Castiel asked before Raphael could respond.

The hunter launched into an explanation that involved beds and breakfast for passing hunters. Raphael half-listened, intrigued by the idea but more interested in the flood of emotions pouring off Samuel. It wasn't surprise—he suspected the brothers had already discussed the idea earlier. But hearing Dean say it in front of everyone was clearly affecting him.

Samuel stood in the middle of the room, staring at his brother in amazement. His eyes darted to the others as though checking to make sure they were all hearing the same words. Raphael gave him a warm smile when those eyes turned to him.

Mary went to her youngest and held her hand out. “Sit with me for this one?”

The boy took her hand and nodded. “Sure. Mom.” He hesitated between words.

Raphael wondered if it was the unfamiliarity of her title that gave Samuel pause. He watched as the mother led her son around to his side of the couch. Dean shifted closer to Castiel, making room for them both. Mary tried to draw Samuel forward by his hand to have him sit next to his brother, but he stood firm.

“You sit there, mom,” he said, pushing her leg until she moved. He glanced at Raphael, and for a second the archangel feared he'd done something wrong—that the boy no longer trusted him to sit next to his mother. But then, the gaze turned shy and the corner of Samuel's lips turned up. “That way you can watch the movie and I can answer any questions either of you have. Don't bother asking Dean—he'll be too distracted by Leia's slave costume.”

Mary relented and looked delighted to find herself between both her boys. Samuel climbed onto the couch and sat stiffly, picking nervously at his pants. He reminded Raphael of a tiny perched bird that might fly off any second, so he kept his vessel still and relaxed.

A wave of giddy joy flowed in from the other archangel, and he looked up. _Aww, it looks like you've made a friend,_ Gabriel said with raised eyebrows.

Raphael's grace warmed with delight at the prospect of gaining Samuel's trust. _Be careful, Gabriel. His ears are quite sensitive..._

“I can hear you both,” Samuel interrupted their silent conversation in a quiet voice.

The Healer's lips quirked at Gabriel's shocked face. “Yes, I was just telling Gabriel that.”

“You could hear us?” Gabriel asked.

Samuel smirked at the archangel. “Kinda. I can tell you're talking, but it just sounds like vague whispers. You think I'll get better at listening in with practice?”

Gabriel gasped and staggered against the end of the couch by the door, clutching his chest. “Did you hear that, Raph?! He wants to be a sneaky, devious angel!” He sounded like his greatest dream was finally being realized.

Raphael sighed at his brother's antics. “Yes, yes. I am sure you will be a wonderful mentor in mischief.”

“Great, just what we need,” Dean jumped in. “A grace-fueled prank war. Mom, remind me next time we go shopping to get hair dye and superglue. If war breaks out, we gotta be prepared.”

“Oh God,” she muttered, slightly horrified by the prospect.

“Gabriel, perhaps you should start the next movie,” Castiel suggested.

Gabriel laughed and quickly switched out the discs. “Anyone need anything before I press play? Food, drink?” Everyone shook their heads. The archangel snapped his fingers, lowering the lights and starting the film.

Instead of returning to sit by Castiel's feet, Gabriel belly-flopped on the opposite side of the couch and stretched out next to Raphael. The Healer chuckled and began absentmindedly playing with the golden wings as he watched the movie. Gabriel groaned obscenely and burrowed further into the cushions.

“Hey!” Dean whispered loudly. A pillow launched over their heads to land on Gabriel. “Those are _not_ appropriate noises! Especially not when freakin' Jabba the Hutt is on screen!”

Gabriel snorted and mumbled something about “stupid mortals,” but fell quiet after that.

Raphael basked in the comfort of the flock around him. The earlier tensions had eased enough that they were now drifting on an infectious giddiness. Mary held both her boys' hands as they watched the screen. Half-way through, Samuel started listing to the side, head nodding as he fought to keep his eyes open.

When the battle with exhaustion was lost, Raphael was startled to feel a small head lean against his arm. He froze and looked down. Samuel had fallen asleep, chin resting on his chest and still holding his mother's hand.

Mary was watching them with equal parts longing and fondness.

And as much as he appreciated the chance to sit with the boy, Raphael did not wish to step on a mother's toes. “Would you like me to shift him to you?” he whispered, already trying to move his arm without waking Samuel, but she stopped him.

“No, no, no,” she said in a rush of air. “Let him sleep.”

Dean leaned around his mother to assess the situation and nodded. “She's right,” he murmured quietly and stood up. “He's the kinda kid you gotta let sleep where he falls. If he wakes up now, he won't go back down for hours, and he'll be mad at the world. Although, if his neck cramps like this, he'll be mad anyway.” The hunter carefully tilted his brother's head back and pulled the boy so he was more reclined. Samuel didn't react except to take a deep breath once he wasn't hunched over.

Gabriel lifted his head and blinked at them. “We need to start taking pictures if he's gonna be so stinking cute all the time.”

Raphael pushed the floppy haired head down into the cushion to shush him. He felt the vibrations of Gabriel's laughter through the couch. _You heard the human, Gabriel. Do not wake Samuel._

Gabriel settled down, but amusement sang through his grace loudly enough that Raphael had to buffer the boy from it. He returned his attention to the younger archangel's wings, calming his excited grace. By the time the movie ended, Dean was also asleep with his head on Castiel's shoulders.

Mary sat in the middle, bemused by her children. “Well,” she huffed, “I thought the movie was exciting!” Untangling their hands, she got up and stretched. “Is Gabriel asleep?”

“No,” Raphael said at the same time his brother let out a snore. He poked the archangel in the ribs and Gabriel jolted away with a laugh. “We do not sleep. He is just lazy.”

“Hey!” Gabriel rolled up on his knees, hair flying everywhere like a rat's nest. “I am _not_ lazy. I prefer the term 'resting while having the chance,' thank you very much. And it's a necessary trait when living with this crew.”

“Shh,” Castiel said with a scowl. “Go away if you're going to be loud.”

“You're kinda cranky there, Cassie. Maybe you need a nap too.” Gabriel turned to look at the seraph, and for a moment Raphael thought the Messenger might explode with exhilaration. Gabriel pulled out a cell phone and tapped it. There was a click, and he repeated it while facing Samuel. “Pictures or it never happened, Raphael. That's the human rule,” he said with a wink.

“Gabriel!” Castiel whispered fiercely, but the archangel was already out of the room.

“I'll go make sure he doesn't do anything crazy like destroy the kitchen in a pie-baking extravaganza,” Mary said, following quickly after Gabriel.

They sat in silence, each angel left to their own thoughts. It gave Raphael time to contemplate how drastically everything had changed. Thirty-six hours ago, this child had viciously fought his assistance—literally fought tooth and nail. And now Samuel was drooling on him. He counted it as a victory.

Raphael knew he would need quite a few more wins in order to begin teaching the fledgling grace work and flight. It required trust, and while he'd made some headway, they still had quite a ways to go.

He did not look forward to giving Michael his update on the situation here. The Commander already carried great guilt and self-loathing over his role in harming Samuel Winchester. It was not going to go over well when he learned how much the boy had suffered since escaping the Cage—especially at the hands of angels.

Samuel's reaction to the angelic guard that morning still unsettled Raphael. He'd been unprepared for the fledgling's fear and anxiety at the sight of Heaven's warriors. There had been no way to simultaneously reassure him _and_ guard the demon. In fact, he'd worried afterwards that his own aggressive actions may have harmed any progress he'd made with the youngest angel.

Gabriel had warned him that angels were at the top of the Winchesters' 'Untrustworthy' list, and he'd expected the suspicion during Samuel's healing. Raphael had _not_ been ready for the child to fear his own protectors when faced with so obvious an enemy as the King of Hell. They would need to be careful when introducing him to angels in the future—any negative interaction would be devastating.

Movement at his side drew Raphael out of his thoughts. The boy drew his knees up as he turned to push his face between the archangel's arm and the couch. He heard Samuel's breathing hitch, but it didn't wake him up.

“Raphael, do not use your grace,” Castiel said in a low, urgent voice as he shook Dean awake.

The hunter came to consciousness instantly. “Cas, what...?”

“Sam's going into a nightmare,” was all Castiel needed to say.

Dean turned and slid across the couch to his brother. He barely acknowledged Raphael, focusing entirely on the boy now trying to wedge his body behind the archangel. They heard the frantic breathing mix with whimpers.

“Sammy? Come on, dude, you're gonna feel weird if you wake up back there.” Dean spoke in a soothing tone. He got an arm around his brother's torso and pulled him up against his own chest. A growl lodged in the back of Samuel's throat, held in place by grinding teeth. Sharp fingers twisted in Raphael's tunic, trying to prevent being forced away.

The archangel watched as hazel eyes, bright with grace, flew open. They stared without focusing, wild and desperate. A foot narrowly missed Raphael's head when the boy bucked against his brother's hold. Snapping his head back, Samuel landed a solid blow to Dean's face and won his freedom. The hunter fell against Castiel, biting back curses as blood poured from his broken nose.

Samuel dove forward again, blindly burrowing between Raphael and the couch. The Healer leaned forward, giving the boy enough space to hide. Fingers tangled in his wings and yanked them closer. Raphael grunted, quickly folding them down so they enveloped the terrified boy. Electrified grace jolted through them, but Raphael absorbed it, containing the energies within his wings.

_**Castiel! Gabriel! Please find find find...**_ Samuel's mental cry rang painfully loud in Raphael's mind. He heard Castiel gasp, and Gabriel flew into the room with his angel blade in hand.

One glance at the child had Gabriel dropping his blade and rushing forward. “ **Here, Samuel. We are right here. You are home.** ” He jumped onto the couch to Raphael's left, trying to see the boy through the curtain of grace.

“ **Peace, Gabriel,** ” Raphael said softly. “ **Talk calmly so he does not wake up to you being upset. Castiel, please heal Dean and take him to clean up. I do not believe Samuel will be comfortable to find everyone staring or his brother covered in blood.** ”

Castiel nodded and laid a hand on Dean's shoulder, flying them away. Without the hunter's constant stream of muttering filling the room, it was much easier to focus on Samuel's fast breathing. Raphael winced as he felt another spark ignite across his wings.

“ **He is quite powerful, even while asleep** ,” Gabriel said, seeing Raphael's reaction. “ **His grace will continue lashing out until he is awake, and even then we may need to drain it. Any suggestions?** ”

Raphael gave his brother a pained smile. “ **I am able to contain it at the moment. Talk to him—let him hear your voice. He is half-awake now, but trapped in memory. His grace recognizes me as a source of safety from yesterday, but it is you he wants. Reassure him.** ”

Gabriel nodded and settled in his corner of the couch along side them.

* * *

Sam was lost in that _place_ filled with fear and cold and hands that hurt.

_'You will learn my rules, little monster. You have no choice here...'_

He heard Shepard's voice, filled with delight at the prospect of punishing him. Felt his hair being twisted in a steel grip to drag him back to the cage. All he wanted to do was run and hide.

Sam found a small, warm space he could curl up in and wait until the danger passed. It seemed familiar, calling to him like a song. But hands grabbed him before he could crawl into place.

_'Where exactly did you think you were going?'_

Throwing his head back, he decided the explosion of pain was worth it when he heard the crunch of bone. His captor's hands disappeared, and Sam took his chance. The hiding place called louder, and he followed it to find radiating heat.

It was a tight squeeze, but Sam forced himself to fit. A gruff voice cursed loudly, and Sam sent up a desperate prayer for a miracle. Something soft touched his face, like a thick curtain warmed in the afternoon sun. Sam grabbed it and pulled, hoping to hide himself from searching eyes.

Another voice joined the outside noise, adding to the need to stay hidden. Sam knew his breathing was too loud, too fast, and tried to stifle the sound by pressing his face into the wall. A deep rumble rolled around him, and he knew he'd heard it before—he just couldn't remember where, or why it made him think safety was nearby. Then, everything fell silent.

When the newer voice spoke again, it was answered by another roll of thunder. The curtain shifted and Sam feared he'd been discovered. He froze, tightening his grasp on the fabric as though he could hold it there by sheer force of will. Surprisingly, the curtain stopped moving.

Sam strained his ears but didn't hear anything to indicate whether the man was leaving or not. Then the wall rumbled, soft and sustained in a way that was almost musical. Sam leaned into it, sighing at the unspoken peace he felt at the sound.

A voice whispered lowly on the other side of the curtain, holding none of its earlier urgency. He tensed, unsure of their intent. It took a while for Sam to make out individual words, and even longer for him to understand their meaning.

“ **Samuel, you are home. We found you—Castiel and I found you. It is safe to come out, little guy.** ” The man sighed. “ **Raphael, are you sure this is working?** ”

The music was interrupted by a staccato of bass before returning to its heavy purr. Sam felt a breeze blow against the curtain, swirling softly around him, and he wondered why it wasn't freezing like the air conditioner. It slowed and settled like another layer of protection over him.

The man laughed, high and giddy, and Sam could breathe freely again. He knew that laugh even if he couldn't quite remember the name or face associated with it. “ **There is no way my singing to Samuel is going to help this situation!** I'm more of the 'back-up karaoke animal noises in B-52s songs' kinda guy, Raph. **I know what you are thinking, Samuel—how can Heaven's Messenger not be the most magnificent singer of the Host? I think Father knew I would have been** _ **too**_ **perfect and decided rightly to keep me humble.** ”

Sam's mind whirled as memories and lore slotted into place. 'Messenger' was a title belonging to... _Gabriel!_ Sam felt hope bloom in his chest. Had the archangel heard his prayer?

“I hear ya, Samshine!” Gabriel said with another round of laughter, and Sam realized the angel was listening to his scattered thoughts. “I'm right here—just me and Raph. Your brother and mom and Cas are in the other room. Everyone is safe and sound. You just take your time waking up, okay?”

_Waking up?_ Sam blinked, not realizing his eyes had been clenched shut. Light blinded him unexpectedly. How could it be so bright when he was under a curtain and wedged against a wall?

Shapes formed in the light—white feathers with emerald veins fell over his face and shoulders. A golden glow shone through them like sunlit leaves. Looking down, Sam was horrified to find his hands clenched around what he realized were wings. He gasped and forced his fingers to let go. The wings shook out, returning the twisted feathers to their rightful place. But they didn't retract—they remained draped around him, keeping him safely hidden from the world. After a breath, Sam realized Gabriel was still rambling.

“...fell asleep before you could see Raphael learn that Luke and Leia are twins. Oh, his face! I'll have to show you later. You only get to experience these things for the first time _once_. Oh, and your mom!” Gabriel gave a low whistle. “I thought she was gonna cry through the last hour or so of it. I think she really liked Vader's redemption arc. Also, your big bro totally fell asleep too. _On Cassie!_ Don't worry—I got pictures. Dad Above, tell me those two haven't been this a-dork-able this whole time. Ugh, they make me want to puke and grin at the same time. I don't know how you stand it!”

Sam huffed softly and shifted in place. His legs were starting to cramp from being awkwardly crammed against...not a wall. Looking past the wings, he saw ivory cloth with elegant gold embroidery—Raphael's tunic.

“Yeah, I bet you've made that sound a lot over the years. Somewhere between a sigh and a laugh—that's a good response to our ridiculous brothers. I mean, what else _can_ you say? It's not like either of them listen. They must be the two most oblivious creatures in all of creation.” Gabriel carried on the one-sided conversation, untroubled by Sam's lack of input.

Slowly, Sam's mind returned to the present. They were back in the bunker. The Brits were gone. They'd been watching movies—'Star Wars.'

His stomach turned, threatening to rebel as he finally realized his immediate situation. Sam swallowed hard and fought the urge to shove the archangel away. This wasn't his first nightmare—he could still see static sparks flying off Raphael's wings. Sam's own grace was crawling restlessly across his skin and his limbs shook as the adrenaline tapered off. It was obvious he'd lashed out in his sleep. Again.

“You doing okay in there?” Gabriel' voice made him jump.

Sam couldn't talk for fear of vomiting. Instead, he focused on pushing gently against the wings, hoping he didn't hurt the archangel further. He needed to see something that wasn't grace-light before he got too dizzy.

The dazzling curtain parted, revealing Raphael's broad shoulders. And beside them, against a backdrop of indigo walls, was Gabriel. He was slouched down in the couch, thumbing through his phone and looking at Sam through the corner of his eye. It was so casual, like they'd just been hanging out.

“Do you see this?” Gabriel asked in a whisper as he held his phone up.

Blinking, Sam found himself smiling at the photo of his brother mid-snore on a narrow-eyed Castiel's shoulder. Of course, the glare was aimed at the camera, not Dean, so Sam assumed it was put there by Gabriel. He stared at his brother's face and felt the last tendrils of panic slide away. His family was safe, and so was he. All that remained was the building tidal wave of embarrassment about to crash over him.

His eyes moved back to Gabriel. The archangel was watching him closely, and Sam was sure he looked like a total mess. “I'm okay,” he croaked barely above a whisper.

Gabriel nodded with a sad smile. “I know, kiddo. But you don't have to be...if you're not.”

Sam shook his head. He did _not_ want to talk about it. Giving name to the clawing helplessness only drew attention to how _not okay_ he really felt. But Gabriel kept going—directly into the heart of what Sam was desperate to avoid.

“I'm sorry we couldn't get to you faster.” Gabriel continued softly. “Those _people_ had no right to hurt you.”

Sam scrambled out from behind Raphael, pushing with his feet to get his body moving. He staggered to the floor and landed on his knees, already heaving. A bucket appeared in front of his face just in time.

Large hands pushed his hair away from his face while he threw up. Sam let them hold his head up, resting his forehead against a cool palm. Grace flowed down his scalp and spine, washing away the nausea. His stomach relaxed mid-cramp and he took a second to breathe before sitting back on his heels.

Raphael was kneeling next to him, a picture of eternal patience. He handed Sam a bottle of water to rinse out his mouth. When it was clear that Sam was done, the bucket vanished.

“ **Would you like to go outside for some fresh air?** ” Raphael asked.

Sam waited to see if 'talking' was going to be a stipulation to the offer, but Raphael simply waited for an answer. Nodding, he pulled himself to standing using the couch as leverage. His knees shook, almost giving out, and he leaned on the seats until he felt confident he'd stay upright.

“I'm fine,” Sam said when both archangels reached out to steady him.

“Okay,” Gabriel assured, taking a step back.

Raphael remained kneeling with his hand out. When Sam met his eyes, the archangel spoke quietly. “ **You are not fine, Samuel. You were taken from your home and held by strangers who did you great harm. I know you—no, look at me please.** ”

Sam shut his eyes and buried his face in his arms against the couch. What was wrong with everyone? Why couldn't they just leave it alone? The seconds ticked by, and the longer he stayed hidden, the more he wished his stupid wings worked so he could fly off. He felt them shift against his back.

Fingers pressed into the same pressure point as before, and the wings flattened automatically. “ **No trying to fly away just yet, little one. I need you to look at me. Come on,** ” Raphael voice was low and firm. Sam reluctantly turned his head and opened his eyes. The archangel's gaze was warm, but serious. “ **That is better, thank you. As I was saying, I know you are strong—I have never met anyone so young with your determination and willpower. But you need to understand something. Are you listening?** ” Sam nodded, barely breathing. “ **You cannot 'will' this away. Human minds are incredibly complex, and capable of repressing memories until a later time. Angels do not have this ability.** ”

Sam frowned. “ **So...?** ” He didn't even know how to finish the sentence. So what now? What was he supposed to do—have therapy sessions? Talking wouldn't change what had happened. And it wasn't like the angels he knew were particularly chatty when it came to feelings, with the possible exception of Gabriel. But Gabriel was an exception on too many levels to count.

“ **So, while it is good to take your time and heal at your own speed, there is nothing beneficial in lying to yourself or others about your well-being.** ” Raphael's words were blunt, and felt like a blow.

Sam pushed himself upright, dislodging Raphael's hand on his wings. “ **Not lying!** ” he said furiously. He glanced at Gabriel, expecting the archangel to at least be torn as to who's side he would take. But the amber eyes held his gaze without wavering—a single eyebrow raised, questioning Sam's statement.

“ **Look at me, Samuel,** ” Raphael ordered. Sam considered ignoring him out of spite, but caved when he realized how childish it would appear. Even kneeling, Raphael towered over him. Sam missed _not_ looking up at everyone. “ **Good. Now, can you honestly tell me that you are 'fine' after everything you went through these last two days?** ”

“ **Yes,** ” Sam answered with a scowl. He had to force himself not to drop his gaze.

“ **You are fine with being kidnapped?** ”

“ **Yes.** ”

“ **And with being locked in a cage?** ”

Sam flinched. “ **Yes,** ” he answered, but he couldn't keep the quiver out of his voice.

“ **And with being beaten for not answering their questions?** ” Raphael steadily pushed, keeping his tone calm and curious.

“ **Yes.** ” Sam's throat grew tight. Why was he asking these things?

“ **You are fine with being chained to a floor and sprayed with water? Being told that your family—** ”

“ **No! You stop!** ” Sam swung without thinking, desperate to make the archangel be quiet. How did he even know...?

Raphael had Sam's wrist in an unshakable hold before he could register taking the swing. For a heartbeat, no one moved. Sam stared at the enormous hand wrapped around most of his forearm, and didn't know whether to be ashamed or terrified. He heard a weird sound, and realized it was his own breathing—too fast and heavy, like he'd sprinted for miles.

“ **Sorry,** ” he gasped and tried to pull his hand back. It didn't budge. Sam looked at Gabriel, silently begging the other archangel for help.

Gabriel sighed and walked around the obstacle course of pillows and ottomans. He crouched down next to them and Sam felt his panic rise. Caged in between two archangels, unable to move, was never a good situation.

“ **Sorry! I...sorry!** ” Sam repeated. The Healer's grip was like steel, but it didn't hurt or crush his wrist. He tried to peel Raphael's fingers away with his other hand to no avail. “ **Sorry, Raphael! Please...** ”

Raphael drew their arms down between them, and shifted his hold so he had both of Sam's hands between his own palms. “ **Hush, child. You are safe—no one is angry.** ” He raised a hand to Sam's face, using his thumbs to wipe away tears Sam didn't know were there. “ **I am a healer, Samuel. I care for the sick and wounded. I will not allow your pain to fester—you have suffered too much already in your lifetime.** ”

Sam couldn't look away any more than he could stop the tears that continued to fall. There had been times in his life when he'd have given anything to hear these words directed at him. Dean had come close a few times, but it was always wrapped in anger or fear of losing Sam. Bare minimum survival had become their best-case scenario—pain didn't matter as long as they remained alive. Now that he heard the words, Sam didn't know what to do.

“ **What you want I do?** ” Sam asked, his voice shaking as he tried not to sob.

“ **I want you to be honest. I cannot make you talk to me, but I ask that you do not try to hide when you are hurting.** ” Raphael leaned in, pressing a kiss to Sam's forehead. Grace flowed through their connection, soothing some of the raw emotions churning below his skin. “ **Strength comes in many forms, from personal strength to strength in numbers. You are not alone in this, Samuel.** ”

Sam gave a short nod. Even if he'd been able to speak, he had no idea what words to use. His brain was too tired to form a sentence in English or Enochian.

“ **Come on—we can discuss this more later.** ” Raphael gave him a broad smile and tucked a strand of Sam's hair behind his ears. “ **For now, we will go outside. You need air and sunshine. I will groom you, as well as Gabriel and Castiel, because all three of you are a mess and in need of some attention.** ”

“I am not a mess,” Gabriel grumbled.

“ **Who is lying now, hmm?** ” Raphael shot back. “ **What am I going to do with you two? I do not suppose you would allow me to tether you both to my side for a century or three.** ”

“The question is—could you survive being tied to a growing thunderstorm that long? Because that's what you'd get with the two of us—nothing but wind and lightning.” Gabriel challenged with a snort. “Besides, think of all the bland things you wouldn't be able to sit and stare at for decades.”

“ **Watch your tone, little hummingbird,** ” Raphael warned. Sam couldn't tell if he was joking or not, but Gabriel stilled at his side. “ **I would have tied you to me from the beginning if I had known I would lose you.** ”

“ **I know,** ” Gabriel whispered.

“ **Then you should not tempt me to start now by doing anything foolhardy. And I will know—even if I am not here, I will know.** ” Sam found himself smiling at the archangel's words—it sounded like something Dean would say. A finger tapped his nose, and he looked up into Raphael's narrowed eyes. “ **That goes for both of you.** ”

Sam swallowed and nodded. Who knew 'angels watching over you' would be so intimidating? He didn't think _this_ was quite what his mother had in mind all those years ago.

“Good job, Sammy,” Gabriel teased in his ear. “You think Dean is a tough mother hen? Wait till you've got Raph in full 'big-brother' mode. It'll be years before he relaxes his guard enough for us to prank him.”

Sam felt his cheeks heat up. Sure, Castiel had considered him family, but that relationship was forged over the span of years. They had fought and died for each other. Having grace might make the Host see Sam as some new kind of angel, but at best he was like a stray cousin. Knowing his luck, most of the angels would see him as an even greater abomination—a demon-tainted broken soul with the grace of an absent Father.

Raphael's head tilted in concentration, and Sam dropped his gaze. “ **Did you know all angels consider each other to be siblings?** ”

There was an awkward silence. Sam stared at his hands still being carefully held by the Healer. “Umm, I guess?” he finally said with a shrug. “Cas always called other angels 'brother' or 'sister.'”

“ **And that you are our newest and youngest brother?** ” Raphael asked, fingers pushing the curls out of Sam's eyes.

Sam grimaced, biting his lip to keep from outright denying it. The idea was too abstract—he didn't know how to belong to a family larger than Dean, Cas, and himself. He didn't even know how Mary fit into the equation, let alone Gabriel, Raphael, and apparently all of fucking Heaven. How could he _be_ a little brother to anyone but Dean?

* * *

_Raphael, don't you think you're rushing that conversation a bit? The kid's got enough to think about without throwing in “welcome to the family—hope you like having thousands of new siblings who will all know your face and name!”_ Gabriel asked, careful to keep the words from Sam's sensitive ears.

_But he needs to know!_ Raphael insisted.

Gabriel was taken aback by the forceful tone. _Know what? That he's related to an entire race that used to hunt and manipulate him? Timing, bro..._

_Fine. But he should at least know that you and I see him as more than an obligation._ Raphael gave him a pointed look. _I will not let him continue believing he is an inconvenient duty._

_He doesn't..._ Gabriel turned to look at Sam. The boy was chewing his lip off while he worked through the his existential angst in silence. _You're right. Of course he sees himself that way. And I agree it needs fixing. But still...don't overload his brain!_

Sighing, Gabriel lightly scratched along Sam's shoulders to ease him out of his thoughts. “Relax, kiddo. Raphael may be right, but he's also a pushy know-it-all. He's literally the original overbearing big brother—the first to take care of all the younger ones. And there hasn't been a new baby in the family since forever, so he's gonna be _extra_ fussy for a while.”

Gabriel was met with simultaneous outrage from both parties. Raphael growled out “I do not fuss!” the same time Sam said, “I am not a baby!”

Gabriel's eyes darted back and forth between them, then gave a low whistle. “Damn, Raph! You think he's _my_ mini-me?” He twirled his hand and waved the tiny white flag that appeared. “By your powers combined, I surrender!”

Sam's glare turned more playful and he huffed a laugh. “You are such a drama queen.”

Gabriel opened his mouth to retort, but Raphael beat him to it. “Hmm, 'drama queen.' I think I like that term. It suites you, Gabriel.”

“Well, I've got a few choice names in mind for you, old man.” Gabriel placed his hands around Sam's ears, pretending to block out the noise, and whispered loudly, “You're just gonna have to wait until innocent ears aren't listening.”

Sam batted away the hands and swore, in fluent Enochian, something that had no translation in English. Both archangels gasped in shock. The boy flashed a proud grin and started toward the hall, taking advantage of their momentary stupor.

“Samuel Winchester!” Gabriel finally said, his voice higher than normal. “ _Where_ in our Father's creation did you learn _that?!_ ” He had to give Sam credit—the kid was gutsy. The smile faltered, and Gabriel suddenly feared the answer would be “the Cage.”

“Umm, I'm pretty sure I picked that one up from Gadreel. He knew a lot of really creative words and phrases. Must have been all that time in Heaven's prison.” Sam shrugged awkwardly. “Are you coming?”

Gabriel watched him, waiting to see if there was any sign of anxiety over the memory. But all he saw was exhaustion mixed with lingering embarrassment. Those were two things the archangel knew he could help fix. “Okay, potty mouth. Let's get outside before the sun sets. Or before you send Raphael into hysterics with more of your 'creative' language skills.”

He stood and stretched his vessel. Raphael hadn't moved, not even to blink. Gabriel grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet.

“Yes, thank you, Gabriel. I am perfectly capable of standing on my own,” Raphael said, shaking his head as though to clear it.

“Oh, I know! It's just that some of us would like it to be today, old man.” Gabriel made a face at his brother and laughed when he heard him sputter in indignation. “I think Sam wins the eloquence award for the day.”

“There's an award?” Sam piped up.

“Hell yeah, there's an award! First in line for an ultra-deluxe grooming session with a team of Heaven's finest!” Gabriel announced as they walked through the bunker.

Sam's face scrunched up. “What?! That's a terrible award.”

Gabriel grinned. “You better watch out, Samsquatch. _He_ can hear you!” he warned with a nod toward Raphael. “Insult the grooming process and you'll end up in double sessions for weeks.”

The boy looked at Raphael out of the corner of his eye, but didn't say anything. _Smart kid,_ Gabriel thought. He sent a quick word to Castiel, letting him know where they were headed. The seraph agreed to meet them there with the others.

Outside, the air was cool and fresh. The sun sat low among the trees, casting long shadows across the ground. Gabriel kept a close eye on Sam as they walked slowly around the building. He felt the tension practically vibrate off the kid's grace as his scrawny arms wrapped around himself. He wondered if it was for warmth or protection—or possibly both.

Gabriel steered them straight for the firepit. He snapped his fingers, instantly arranging the blankets and pillows. Footsteps crunched through the yard behind them, and the archangel sighed in relief to have the flock all in one place.

Sam had the opposite reaction. His heart rate spiked as he spun in place to face them. Arms at his side and fists at the ready, the kid dropped his weight into a lower fighting stance.

Gabriel quickly turned, afraid he'd misread who was approaching. But it was just his brother and the Winchesters. They slowed their steps, hesitating at his response. Mary and Castiel looked to the archangels for some kind of signal, but Dean kept his eyes on Sam.

The hunter recovered first, shaking his head and walking faster. “You've already bested me once today, Sammy. And I ain't looking for a rematch, so chill.”

“Sorry. I didn't know it was you.” Sam relaxed his hands and deliberately took a deep breath.

“It's cool, man.” Dean sprawled out on the blanket and stared up at the sky. The sun had faded, allowing stars to appear one-by-one.

Sam frowned. “What do you mean I bested you?”

“Dude, you busted my face with your head when you woke up. You don't remember?” Dean looked confused.

“I...what?” Sam turned horrified eyes on Gabriel for confirmation.

Castiel beat him to the punch. “You weren't completely awake yet, Sam. The injury was minor, but...visually dramatic.” The seraph joined them, stealing the pillow out from under Dean's head. “Much like your brother,” he added as an afterthought.

“Hey!” Dean shouted in protest as his head hit the ground. “That was _mine_. And did you just call me 'visually dramatic?'”

“Is that similar to 'drama queen?'” Raphael asked as he grabbed two pillows. Sitting on one, he placed the other in front of him.

“Hey!” was yelled again, this time by both Dean and Gabriel.

Sam let out a laugh, surprising everyone including himself. “Yes. In this context, it absolutely is.”

Raphael patted the empty pillow, beckoning the boy to him. Gabriel nudged the kid closer. “Go on. Reap your reward.” He waited until Sam actually settled in place before he dropped down onto the blanket too.

Mary took a seat between him and Castiel. “Reward?”

“Oh yes,” Gabriel said with a grin. It only grew when he saw Sam's face fall. “Your boy won the eloquence award earlier.”

“Really?” Mary asked, turning to Sam. “And why is that?”

“He showed off some advanced vocabulary skills that put even Raphael to shame.” Gabriel answered. Sam turned red as he ducked his head down.

Mary blinked, looking between her son and the archangels. “And...what did he say?”

“Yeah, Sam. Share with the class.” Dean propped himself up on his elbows to get a clear view of his brother. “It's gotta be good if Gabe's making that face.”

Sam covered his face with this hands and groaned.

“Gabriel!” Raphael snapped his name like a rebuke. “No one will be repeating those words. Ever.”

There was a moment of silence. Then, Dean laughed. “Damn, Sam. What the hell did you say to get them so worked up?”

“Nothing, Dean,” Sam mumbled into his hands. “You wouldn't understand it anyway—it was in Enochian.”

“What, like that dirty joke Cas told forever ago? That one about breeding with a goat's mouth...” Dean frowned in concentration, trying to remember the words.

Gabriel choked. “Cassie! What kind of jokes have you been teaching these boys? No wonder Sam swears worse than a sailor.”

“It was not a joke. It was a fake exorcism being used by the Whore,” Castiel growled, glaring at Dean.

“Excuse me?” Mary sputtered.

“Of Babylon,” Castiel quickly amended. “The Whore of Babylon—we encountered her during the Apocalypse.”

“That...does not make it better,” Mary said with a sigh.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “Not helping, Cas.”

Light giggles echoed around the fire as Gabriel watched Raphael fall into the familiar routine of grooming a fledgling. They had all come so far in such a short amount of time, and the journey was no where near finished. Training and lessons would have to happen soon, and there was a backlog forming of issues that still needed addressing. The biggest item on the list that he planned to take care of first, though, was getting Sam a damn dog. And he knew just the person to call.

But all that could wait a few more hours. For now, Gabriel soaked in the joy that danced across his grace, and sighed in contentment. His flock was safe, his family reformed, and life was good.

 


	9. We Stood Tall, and Remembered Our Own Land, What We Lived For.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, all my love to @Nathyfaith and @ScrollingKingfisher for beta reading and talking me off ledges!!  
> And thanks to all my readers who leave me comments <3 Y'all...for reals...you give me life. 
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to @AlyssaHoran, in memory of her beloved Morpheus.

Gabriel waited until everyone was asleep to make the call. 

The evening had been full of laughter and stories. True to his word, Raphael gave all the angels a thorough work-over. The humans found endless amusement in the effects it had on them. Dean had to carry his sleeping brother back to the bedroom while Castiel stumbled after him, grace-drunk and giggling. It took both archangels to get them all tucked in and settled. 

_ Go make your calls, Gabriel. I will keep watch, _ Raphael promised.

_ It may take some time. There's a few people who may be able to help, and some can't be reached on a cell phone. _ Gabriel smoothed imaginary wrinkles out of Sam's blankets, smiling when the boy snuggled down further. 

_ Go, Gabriel, _ Raphael said with amusement.  _ I will let you know if anyone wakes up. Or sneezes.  _

_ You better, _ Gabriel gave him a mock scowl. As he walked out of the room, he waved a hand and a box of tissues appeared on the table.  _ Just in case. _

Raphael's laugh echoed in his mind all the way to the kitchen. Once there, Gabriel gathered his materials and laid them out on the table. Then, he pulled out his phone and started on the easier calls. 

By morning, he had a plan and an appointment. After five phone calls, four rituals, and a lot more humility and begging than he was used to using, Gabriel found someone who understood what he needed. At sunset, he would meet with one of the few goddesses who universally commanded respect. 

Even archangels admired Hecate—and tonight, the sixteenth of November, was  _ her _ night. 

When Dean shuffled into the kitchen, he was greeted to a mess of magical ingredients and discarded bowls. “Umm, I hope none of those were used for breakfast,” he said in a sleep-gruff voice. 

Gabriel snapped, removing the mess. “Nope,” he reassured as he went to make coffee for them. “Just getting in touch with some old friends I thought might be able to help with our situation. I see a lady about a canine companion tonight.”

That made Dean halt mid-step. “That...that is very soon.” He cleared his throat. “I guess we can go out and get stuff for it today. What do they even need—food, bowls, and...a bed? Oh my god, we're getting a dog. I'm gonna have to stock up on lint rollers.” The hunter wiped his face with his hands. 

“Calm down, Deano. Try not to croak at the domesticity,” Gabriel chuckled. “And you don't need to go get anything. I'm not buying Sam a pet.”

“What?” Dean's head shot up in confusion. “I thought...”

“We're taking in a  _ service companion _ —and only if I pass the interview with their keeper. I'm gonna be busy today making her libations.” Gabriel left the coffee to brew and began pulling down bowls and ingredients. He had all the stuff to make the honey cakes and there was a barrel of spiced mead in one of his storehouses. All he needed was fresh fish, and that would be easy enough to procure.

“I can't have this conversation without coffee,” Dean muttered, pouring a cup before the pot was finished brewing. “I feel like I'm missing something.”

Gabriel sighed as he carefully started mixing the cake batter. He infused it with his grace to add power to the offering. “How much do you know about Hecate?”

Dean froze with his coffee cup halfway to his mouth. “The Greek goddess?”

“Yup.”

Dean's shoulders sagged and he drained half the mug, wincing at the temperature. “She isn't one to trifle with, if the lore is true. And I'm guessing it is if you're stressing this much. Isn't she the goddess of the crossroads? And, like, necromancy? Why exactly are we asking her for anything?”

“People have been sacrificing dogs to her for thousands of years,” Gabriel started to explain, but was interrupted.

“Ew, man!!” Dean shuddered. “What the hell? That is not—” 

The archangel snapped his fingers and a fresh doughnut appeared in Dean's mouth. He pushed a plate across the counter that contained steaming leftovers to keep the hunter quiet so Gabriel could concentrate on talking and working without interruption. 

“There. Be quiet.” There wasn't time. The others would wake soon, and had less than twelve hours to be ready. “When humans sacrifice animals to a god or goddess, it sends the spirit to the deity. Some gods consume them, some collect them. And then there's Hecate.”

Dean's eyebrows raised in curiosity, but he remained silent.

“She transforms them—or did, when people still sacrificed animals to her. She'd bring them back to life as something greater than before. Trained them as guardians—warriors bound to protect those whom Hecate deemed worthy. There was a time when she had entire armies at her command. But time and wars killed most of them. As Christianity spread, she was all but forgotten. No followers means no sacrifices, so she took the remaining few and retreated to one of her places  _ in between _ .” Gabriel transferred the batter into a bake pan. He breathed a blessing over the jar of honey and painted her symbols over the smooth batter surface. “Retirement has mellowed her out. Hopefully. But she's been known to perform favors for friends.”

“Let me guess—you used to be one?” Dean asked around his mouthful of eggs. 

“Besties, for sure!” Gabriel sang. Dean frowned at him. “Okay, maybe we weren't BFFs, but we knew each other. There's mutual respect there. She helped me with someone, and I helped her in exchange. Once I've plied her with my cooking and told her the story, I know she will help again.”

“What else will it cost you?”

Gabriel looked up, startled by the seriousness he heard. “What?”

“A deal with Hecate sounds like it would involve something more than cake and a chat,” Dean put his food down and leaned closer. “So what else will it cost you?”

Gabriel laughed, and was happy to see some of the tension ease out of the hunter. “Unlike my adorable little bro, I am  _ not  _ a Winchester. No soul or grace deals. I'm not giving up a set of wings, or any other ridiculous image you've conjured in that empty cranium! Food and incense are traditional offerings. Besides, she loves mead more than blood, and I happen to have a barrel of her favorite. Trust me—I'm only offering what I'm willing to give.”

Dean stared at him, then shrugged. “Whatever, man. Just don't do something stupid. I'm not explaining it to Sammy if it all goes wrong.”

“I can promise you, Dean,” Gabriel put down the honey and met the hunter's eyes, “that I will not do anything to jeopardize anyone, including myself.”

Dean gazed back stonily. After a moment, he gave a slow nod of acceptance. “Good.” 

Gabriel got back to work. By the time the rest of his flock filtered into the kitchen, he'd been baking for two hours and made one time-hop to get the fish. Dean wouldn't have even noticed if not for the enormous basket that reappeared with him. 

The others wrinkled their noses at the odd combination of smells, and Gabriel quickly shooed them all out of the kitchen. He shoved the picnic basket into Raphael's hands and ordered the Healer to take them all outside or to another room—anywhere that wasn't in the kitchen asking questions. Castiel grabbed Dean and dragged him along. Dad bless little brothers.

He worked tirelessly preparing the fish and arranging side platters of fruits and cheese. His brothers kept him updated through the hours, sending him images of Sam running through the yard with Dean close behind. There were a few close calls—noises from the woods or a shadow moving across the sun—that put the boy on edge. Gabriel forced himself to let the others handle it, even though he wanted nothing more than to help.

It made him work harder, knowing that  _ this _ was going to be a better long-term solution than whatever words of comfort he could think up. When five o'clock rolled around, he laid all the dishes over an ancient cloth. Gabriel sealed it in his grace, and the runes woven into the fabric glowed white. 

With a gesture, he sent the whole spread into a special basket from Athens. The mead barrel was already shrunk to jar-sized and nestled inside. All he had to do now was deliver it. 

Gabriel held the offering carefully and flew out of the bunker.

Traveling through the veil to the realm between worlds, he landed in a forest at the center of a three-way crossroads. Fireflies ignited a single path and he followed it toward the growing sound of howling.  When he stepped into a clearing, he stopped with a gasp. 

A cottage sat along the forest's edge, a half-built construct merging with a massive twisting yew. The fireflies swarmed through the branches, casting a greenish glow over the thatched roof. Fences formed large pens where dogs of all sizes either romped playfully or slept in piles. 

The cottage door opened and Hecate stepped out, just as awe-inspiring as Gabriel remembered. She took the form of the Mother tonight, yet still radiated the beauty of the Maiden and the wisdom of the Crone. But the Mother held the power and magic of life. 

“Hecate, I am honored you have granted me an audience.” Gabriel let out a shaky breath and raised the basket in offering with a smirk. “I come bearing gifts.”

“Loki.” Hecate graced him with a grin, sharp and full of teeth. “It has been some time since I last saw you, my friend. Although, I hear it is 'Gabriel' now, yes?” Her head tilted, sending onyx curls cascading over her bare olive-skin. 

Gabriel nodded. “Yeah. It's a long story.”

“One I am sure I shall hear. One day.” She reached out and took the basket. “But I believe you have a different story for me today. So, tell me, Gabriel—what could move an archangel to ask a favor of a lowly god?”

“I would never consider you a 'lowly' anything, Hecate.” He bowed his head. “You are a goddess of judgment, protector of the innocent, and healer of children.”

“Loki...” she warned.

“You know, I kinda had a crush on you back in the day,” he continued with a wink. 

Hecate blinked at him, then threw her head back and laughed with delight. The sound echoed through the clearing, and the dogs howled in answer. “It's good to see your return to grace has not dulled your humor.”

“Pfft!” Gabriel rolled his eyes at the idea. “I was causing chaos in Heaven long before Dad formed the Earth. They'll probably only let me back for short supervised visits now.”

“Come, join me for a meal and you can tell me your tale.” Hecate led him around to the other side of the cabin where a large stone slab served as a table. She opened the basket and directed the rush of magic toward the stone. The food appeared laid out over the ancient cloth, just as Gabriel had planned. “Beautifully done. For an angel,” she said with a look.

Gabriel snorted. “Ouch.”

The goddess took her time piling her plate with a bit of everything he'd offered. Only when she took her place on a seat of oak and fur did Gabriel dare get any for himself. He knew tradition. 

“Tell me about the child,” she said, staring at him over her goblet of mead. 

Gabriel filled his own goblet. He was going to need the alcohol way more than fish or cake for this story. “I'm not sure how up-to-date you are on Earth's current affairs, but two weeks ago today, the Darkness almost destroyed all of existence. It was saved by two humans—brothers.”

Hecate gave a single nod. “I heard.”

“Right, well, Dad ended up healing the younger one using His own grace. Then, He brought me back from the ether and I found myself in charge of a brand new fledgling.” Gabriel took a drink. “Except he's not an infant angel with a young man's memories. He's Samuel Winchester.”

“Oh.” Hecate set her plate aside and held her cup out. 

Gabriel rushed to refill it. “You know of him?” He tried to hide his trepidation—the Winchesters tended to inspire fairly strong opinions in others. Usually of the negative sort. 

“As much as any other pagan. He came to my attention during your apocalypse,” she said, deep in thought. “How long...?”

“Was he in the Cage having his soul shredded by Lucifer and Michael?” he finished the question for her. She nodded. “Our best guess is around two hundred years.”

Hecate sucked in a breath. “Tell me what you are dealing with.”

Gabriel sat in a low-hanging yew branch and collected his thoughts. “His grace is beginning to process through all the memories his human mind couldn't contain. Night terrors, flashbacks, trouble discerning reality, and grace outbursts are our daily norm. But we were attacked a few days ago by humans carrying a powerful weapon—strong enough to blast me and a seraph away so they could take Sam. Heaven has added protections and guards to our home, but...” He shut his eyes and calmed the rage that threatened to spill out. “The humans tortured Sam. Burnt him with holy fire that forced his wings to sprout way too early. And Sam doesn't trust angels on the whole, so healing was a battle. The past couple days have been...well, 'hard' doesn't really describe it.”

Hecate stood and motioned for him to follow. “Describe Sam to me. Who is he, separate from his struggles?”

Gabriel laughed. “Sam Winchester—the boy forged in suffering?”

Hecate slapped his shoulder, and Gabriel stumbled. “What is he like? Is he quiet or loud? Is he a physical or mental creature?”

“Ah,” Gabriel considered the questions. “Well, he's quite a walking contradiction. He can go hours without talking, and loses himself in research, but tends to explode when he feels threatened. Scary intelligent—he loves learning, but he can't shut off his brain. He's incredibly kind and gentle and self-sacrificing. And a sassy little shit when he wants to be.”

“Sounds like someone I know,” Hecate said with a knowing smile. 

“You're not the first to say that,” Gabriel huffed.

They walked past several pens, each a sprawling field that held about a dozen dogs. There were ponds and small shelters and firepits all tucked together with beds of flowers. The fireflies followed them until they stopped at a gate, then they danced along the bound branches that formed the fence. 

“I want you to meet someone, but before you do, you must know something.” Hecate turned to face him. “If he decides to go with you, I do not part with him lightly. He is the last of my first.”

“Hecate...” Gabriel whispered breathlessly. 

“You need someone capable of dealing with a powerful, out-of-control child who doesn't trust. There is only one among the pack who qualifies.” She put two fingers in her mouth and whistled a series of notes. The howling fell silent. From the far corner of the pen, a tiny speck flew over the field toward them. 

Gabriel squinted. Either the  _ between _ -dimension was messing with his ability to judge distance, or the bounding ball of fur was much smaller than he'd anticipated.  _ Scratch that, _ he thought as the creature grew closer.  _ Much much much smaller. _

The speck turned out to be a piece of cotton with stubby legs and beady little eyes. It didn't slow down when it reached them. Gabriel stared as it darted under the fence to bounce full-force against Hecate's ankles and roll clumsily away. 

“Morpheus!” Hecate frowned fondly. “One of these days, you are going to knock yourself out. And I can only hope I am present to witness your humiliation.”

The pocket-sized piece of fluff let out a high-pitched 'yip' and rolled again, suddenly gaining mass and momentum. In a flurry of fur, it shifted and expanded, kicking up a cloud of dust. When it settled, Gabriel took a step back and fought the urge to draw his angel blade.

The puppy was  _ not a puppy! _ Laying flat on his belly, the canine's head stood at least four feet high. Fur flowed off the creature in long white waves. The face was shaped like a husky with a long round snout and bear-like ears. Curious blue eyes stared into Gabriel. 

Hecate moved to stand next to the creature. “Morpheus, I want you to meet Gabriel. He's an old friend of mine. Gabriel, this is Morpheus.”

_ Loki, _ a low voice rumbled in Gabriel's head.

Gabriel nodded, dumbfounded. “I...I used to go by that name, yes.”

_ Gabriel _ , he sounded the name out slowly.  _ The archangel? _

“Yeah,” Gabriel whispered, still nodding. He vaguely realized he looked ridiculous, but couldn't help it. This wasn't his first encounter with a magically enhanced giant dog, and he was caught in a tide of emotions. He couldn't afford the distraction of memories.

Morpheus stood and shook the dust off, sending tufts of fur swirling through the air. Gabriel coughed and took another step back. The canine's mouth fell open in a wide grin, his tongue lolling to the side.  _ How can I be of service? _

Hecate rescued him by answering. “Gabriel brought me a very special case. He cares for an angel child who is in crisis. The boy was human first, and his soul was nearly destroyed by other angels before their Creator healed him.”

Morpheus sat down and swung his massive head to look at the goddess.  _ You wish for me to leave? _ he asked with a startled whine.

“Never,” she reassured firmly. Her hands grabbed the fur framing his face and pressed their foreheads together. “I will never ask you to leave. This is your home, and I am your Mother. But I know you. You haven't had a pup—”

_ Fledgling,  _ Morpheus interrupted.

Hecate continued without missing a beat. “—in over a century. You are wonderful with the babes here, but you are restless. I think you need an adventure.”

_ An adventure with archangels? _ he chuffed, rolling his eyes toward Gabriel.  _ Are you any good at adventures, Gabrieloki? _

Gabriel grinned, meeting the canine's mischievous gaze. “You have no idea.” He took slow steps forward. “Three days ago, I got blasted to a galaxy over one and a half million light years from Earth, pulverized a comet, and flew back with my awkward brother clinging to me like a koala bear. And that wasn't the craziest thing I experienced in the past two weeks.”

Morpheus stood and closed the distance between them. His breath blew hot on Gabriel's face.  _ What was the craziest thing? _

“I came back from the dead and adopted some Winchesters.” 

Winter blue eyes narrowed, searching for any deceit. When none was found, Morpheus swung his head from side to side in disbelief. Suddenly, a giant tongue slurped along Gabriel's cheek. The archangel held still, keeping his eyes and mouth shut in case it returned.  _ Hmm...You are an interesting creature. I will hear your case.  _

Gabriel carefully opened one eye. Morpheus made a sound somewhere between a sneeze and a laugh. “Are you done licking me?” 

_ Maybe. _

“Oh, you'll fit right in!” Gabriel said, wiping his face with his jacket sleeve. 

_ Hmm, _ Morpheus hummed.  _ Walk with me and tell me about your pack. _

“We're a little group of outcasts.” Gabriel fell into step next to the canine. He watched Hecate wave to them and set off toward her cabin. “There's an archangel, a seraph, a fledgling, and two humans. I know, it sounds like the set up to a bad bar joke.” 

They walked together slowly as Gabriel described the members of his eclectic family. The resurrected mother, the righteous man, the fallen angel, and the new grace-child. Morpheus listened without interruption until Gabriel was done explaining their recent circumstances surrounding the boy's kidnapping. 

_ That is quite a tale, _ the canine said as he led them into an open field. 

There were no fires nearby, and only the occasional green glowbug to light the area. Morpheus thumped his head against Gabriel's chest, knocking him on his ass. A paw pushed him all the way back into the grass where the sight of swirling stars overhead stole the archangel's unnecessary breath. 

Morpheus flopped beside him and rolled to sprawl out on his own back. For a moment, they both just stared at the sky, getting lost in the vibrant colors. When the canine spoke again, his voice was soft.  _ What do you hope to find here?  _

Gabriel felt earth magic soak into his wings, a familiar energy more primal than grace. Emotion burned in his throat, and he swallowed hard before he answered. “I'd hoped...”

_ No. Not past tense. What DO you hope to find here? _ Morpheus insisted.

“I hope to find help for Sam—a friend and confidant. Someone he can trust and feel safe around. We each play a different role, but Sam has no one who meets him on equal ground. We all see ourselves as mentors and parents to him. That counts double for his brother—Dean raised him when they were both babies.” Gabriel gave an empty laugh, and traced constellations in the sky. “Sam may be older than his mother and brother's combined years, and he may even end up more powerful than me and Cassie. But he's only a little bigger than a toddler and his grace is even younger.”

_ What else? _

Gabriel dropped his hand and sighed. “I want him to be happy. I want his pain to stop outweighing his joy. For him to learn that he doesn't always have to be suspicious of those who care about him—that not everyone demands a price for their love. And I want to burn his fucking 'Savior of the World' hat so he can stop trying to put it on and get himself killed.”

_ And what do you want, Gabrieloki? _

“I...” Gabriel blinked as tears blurred the stars. “Nothing. I already have more than I ever dreamed possible. I have a flock who knows me, and accepts me anyway. I have a home where I freely exist as Gabriel without hiding Loki, and vice versa. My Father has even returned...kinda. There is nothing more I want for myself. I don't know what else there could be.”

He heard Morpheus roll back onto his belly, and the blurry sky was replaced by a white fuzz. The face moved closer, and Gabriel shut his eyes again when he felt the broad tongue lap away his tears. A paw landed across his chest as Morpheus inched closer to reach the left cheek, methodically working his way up into the archangel's hairline. It was oddly soothing. 

When he finished, Morpheus rested his head under Gabriel's chin.  _ I like you, and your offering was honest.  _

“Offering?” Gabriel said in a scratchy voice, slightly muffled in fur. “Did you steal a fish?”

Morpheus chuffed at him.  _ Not yet. But you gave me something different.  _

“What?” he felt a jolt of fear. What had he given?

_ The dream of an archangel. _ Morpheus raised his head, grinning at the surprise on Gabriel's face.  _ I will return with you on a trial basis. If it does not work out, then I will help you find someone better suited. Hecate was right—I have missed being needed. You sound like adventure follows you. I've missed that too. _

Gabriel threw his head back onto the grass and laughed. He laughed in relief and excitement, the stress of the last few days finally being replaced by hope. Fresh tears burned his skin, but Morpheus didn't take them. “Like I said, you have no idea. Do you know anything about fledglings?”

_ I know all pups—canine, human, god, and many other races. Children are children, regardless of power or form.  _ Morpheus stood and waited for Gabriel to join him.

The archangel rolled to his feet, brushing the dirt off his pants and hair. “I hope you're right. Sam is the first fledgling since before humanity existed. And no angel has ever been crafted from a human soul. We are officially in uncharted waters.”

_ I welcome the challenge. _

They made their way back to the cottage. Hecate stood in the doorway with a small wooden box in her hand. She smiled sadly as they approached. “I see you've come to an agreement.”

“How...?” Gabriel asked, looking between the two pagan beings.

“He's smiles like a wolf on a hunt whenever he decides to leave. I have not seen that grin in a long time.” She stepped in front of Morpheus. “I have a gift for you, old friend.”

_ You do not normally give me gifts when I leave, _ he said, sitting back on his haunches.

Hecate nodded. “You have never gone to work with angels before.” 

She opened the wooden box to reveal a necklace of thin silver rope. A single key, carved from stone, acted as a pendent. Its long shank branched into a 'Y' within a circular bow. Three tiny sapphires sat where lines and circle touched. A single moonstone glowed milky-white from the center where the three points met. 

Gabriel gasped—he knew that key. Morpheus apparently also recognized it. The canine stood and took a step back. 

_ No, Hecate. I cannot take that, _ he growled.

“You will need it,” she said simply, staring him down until he relented. He sat slowly and hung his head so she could reach. A low rumble emanated softly from his chest in discontent. “This opens the three realms of my crossroads—Earth, Hades, and Heaven. You do not want your charge going somewhere you cannot follow.”

Hecate's hands swiftly tied the silver thread around his neck. The key glowed blinding white, then magically faded into Morpheus' fur. Her arms remained in place as she pulled him into a fierce embrace.

The canine shivered, then nuzzled into her hair.  _ I will visit. _

“You better,” she sniffed and stepped away, turning damp eyes on Gabriel. “And I expect to meet this boy who drove an archangel to my door with the best honey cakes I've ever tasted.” 

Gabriel gave a low bow in gratitude. “I'm sure that can be arranged. Sam would love it here.” He straightened up with a grin. “He'd probably be torn between asking you questions like a good little hunter and running to play with a field full of puppies.”

“He is welcome to do both,” she said firmly, wrapping him in a hug as well. “You take care of him, understand?”

“I swear to you—he will be under my personal protection. And, by extension, the protection of Heaven.”

“I don't care or trust Heaven, but I  _ am _ trusting you.” Hecate leaned back and gave him a severe look. 

_ I am standing right here, thank you, _ Morpheus interjected. He butted his head between them, pushing them apart.  _ And I have not required protection since I was a pup myself. _

“I know, Morph,” Hecate's expression softened. “But you'll always be a pup to me.”

_ Go, _ he said, nudging her again.  _ Tonight is still young. You will have more offerings before dawn.  _

Hecate gave a watery laugh, and hugged him once more. “Don't have too much fun, you two.”

Gabriel watched her walk away and slowly fade into the night. He turned to Morpheus, an eyebrow raised. “You ready to meet the fam, big guy?” 

Morpheus nodded as he stood and gave a full-body shake. As the dust flew, he seemed to lose mass, condensing back down to the cotton ball Gabriel had first seen. He pranced over to the archangel's feet and climbed onto his shoe.  _ Well? _ he asked with a tiny yip.

“Well what?” Gabriel asked, careful not to move his feet and squash the piece of fuzz.

_ I'm not walking back to your dimension. Pick me up and fly us, angel-god. _

A giggle escaped Gabriel as he picked the canine shifter. He weighed barely a pound, and most of it was fur. “This is pretty convenient. There's no way we could take you out in public when you're the size of a pony.” He cradled the creature to his chest. “Do you have other forms?”

_ No. This was my form when I was sacrificed to Hecate as a young pup. _ Morpheus sniffed at the archangel's shirt.  _ My larger form is who Mother made me. _

Gabriel nodded. He'd received many blood sacrifices during his time as Loki, but he'd preferred offerings of service and intent. And food—food was his favorite. 

He walked them back along the firefly-lit forest path. “So, Sam doesn't know you're coming. I explained to the others that you are not a pet, but Sam has no idea. He probably doesn't even remember Dean promising him a dog. It was all said in the midst of post-rescue chaos when Sammy was mostly unresponsive and in extreme pain.”

_ Don't worry. I will introduce myself in this form first.  _

They reached the crossroads, and Gabriel felt the veil between realms grow thinner. He took a deep breath. “Ready?”

_ Always. _

And they were gone.

* * *

When they landed, Morpheus decided that he  _ loved _ angel-travel. He almost asked to go again just to feel the rush of time and space twisting around him. Squirming in Gabriel's hands, he caught sight of old bricks and trees lit by the setting sun. 

The area was soaked in magic, and smelled like a storm even though the sky was clear. His ears picked up the sounds of at least four other beings but he couldn't see them. Gabriel set him down gently and ruffled his fur. “They're out back. Raphael and Cassie know we're here.”

_ Is Sam not suspicious of your absence?  _ Morpheus asked, trotting alongside the archangel.

“Technically, I've been gone for less than a minute. Sam doesn't know I left.” He stopped abruptly, and Morpheus looked up to catch a pained grimace. “He's gonna give me hell over time and dimension hopping. Let's try not mentioning it for now. Maybe he won't notice.”

Morpheus frowned.  _ No lies or secrets. _

“No, no, I don't mean...” Gabriel sighed and crouched down. “He's a worrier. In fact, he'll probably fuss after  _ you _ when you shift, worried you're wasting energy and making yourself vulnerable.”

_ Well, that's just silly. Shifting builds energy. It is an action fed by god-magic, not my own stamina! _ He tilted his head, resisting the urge to howl in amusement.

“You try explaining that to him.” The archangel rolled his eyes and stood up. “Come on. I want to see his face while it's still light out.”

Morpheus followed closely as they walked around the corner of the building. He tried to stay hidden behind the sneakers while he took in the scene. Gabriel seemed to understand and kept his steps slow and measured. 

It was easy to identify each person from Gabriel's descriptions. The other two angels were gathered around a fire, their wings and grace shining brighter than the flames. The mother stood with them, laughing as they watched her sons in the yard. The human brother ran to catch a fuzzy ball when he saw Gabriel. Smiling, he threw the ball over his shoulder and jogged toward them. 

“Showtime,” Gabriel whispered.

“Hey, I thought you were...” Green eyes went wide when they caught sight of Morpheus. “Umm, Gabe?”

“Yeah, Deano?” Gabriel stood with his arms crossed, relaxed and amused. 

“What...how is...I don't...” the hunter sputtered eloquently.

Morpheus ignored him in favor of the other figure in the yard. Sam Winchester was indeed a unique child. A blend of grace and soul bound together in a clumsy little body. He watched the boy run to pick up the ball, yelling obscenities at his brother over his shoulder.

The canine grinned—this was his kind of kid. Darting around Gabriel and Dean, he sprinted across the yard with a bark. Sam's head whipped around, throwing him off balance, and he landed on his butt. The mother squealed something excitedly, but Morpheus didn't look away from his target.

As soon as he reached Sam, he made sure to 'trip' and tumble the rest of the way. He landed at the boy's feet and stared up into the confused face. A series of emotions flashed through hazel eyes, and Morpheus cataloged each one to memory. Excited energy left him practically vibrating in place as he waited for Sam to make the first move. 

The boy stared at him as though he didn't trust his own eyes. Glancing around to the other people present, he must have received an encouraging signal because some of the tension transformed into wonder. “Hey there,” Sam whispered, slowly holding a hand out for Morpheus to inspect. “Where did you come from?”

Sniffing the fingers, Morpheus got the strong scent of ozone with undertones of sweat and healthy earth. He licked over the knuckles, watching Sam's gaze dart between him and the odd pack-flock. A small smile graced the corner of the boy's mouth.

In his experience, all children were somewhat feral pups. They worked off instinct and body language more than words. Speech only worked if the child trusted the speaker. But honesty was a large part of trust, and he wouldn't pretend to be a 'normal' dog.

_ Hello, Sam. _ He kept his voice quiet and closely watched for any signs of fear, wondering how much bite this pup had in him. Gabriel's warning about Sam's tendency to lash out when startled left the canine more curious than nervous. It pleased him when the hand retreated instead of attacking.

Morpheus didn't move when Sam gasped and crab-walked backwards a few steps. He heard the pagan-angel reassure the others by the fire, not letting them rush over. Good—this moment was about Sam.

Shapeless wings rose behind the boy in a clear display of alarm. Morpheus lowered his head and wiggled his butt. He couldn't help it in this form, and he knew the effect it had on most people. He believed in using every resource available, including the adorably disarming size factor. 

“What?” Sam whispered, barely audible over the sound of his pulse. 

_ I said 'hello.' _ Morpheus repeated, and rolled belly-up. The grass felt good here—different from his Mother's realm. 

“Can...can you talk? Or am I just hearing you?” The boy stared at him, too stunned to blink.

_ Are those different things? _

Sam swallowed and looked toward the murmuring group by the fire, silently pleading for someone to help. “Yes. They're very different. Especially since you understand me enough to answer my questions.”

_ Hmm, _ Morpheus mused. The boy  _ was _ intelligent. And pushy, even when unsure.  _ You are right. I can speak, although not everyone is capable of listening. _

“Who are you?” Sam asked, shifting up to kneel a few inches closer. The stance would let him get to his feet quickly if he needed to run. 

_ My name is Morpheus.  _

“And where...why...?” Sam frowned. Apparently, both brothers struggled with words when overwhelmed.

_ Gabriel said you needed a friend, and added protection in light of recent events. _ Morpheus flipped back onto his belly and sniffed the air. The area was layered in heavy scents—creatures, wood smoke, foliage, and magic all competed for dominance. It would take time to sort through and familiarize himself with them all.

“Gabriel?” Sam sent a fierce scowl in the archangel's direction before his head snapped back to Morpheus. “Wait, protection? He wants  _ you _ to protect me?” His voice dripped with doubt.

_ I have two forms. My other one is much more impressive.  _

“You're a shapeshifter?” The boy said the word like it meant a very specific thing.

Morpheus tilted his head.  _ I am able to shift my shape, yes. But only between the two forms.  _

“Do you shed your skin when you change?” 

_ I don't even shed my fur, _ he huffed.  _ I belong to Hecate's pack—my abilities come from her. I change size, not species, and have no human form. _

“Right. Okay...” Sam sighed and looked again toward his family. “What are they doing?” he muttered under his breath, too low for human ears but plenty loud to a canine.

_ I asked that I be allowed to introduce myself, _ Morpheus answered. He ignored the glower he received and crawled closer.

“Why?” Sam snapped. His body tightened like a coil ready to spring.

_ Because you deserve to make decisions based on your own impressions—not because others talk you into it.  _ Morpheus paused, then yipped—a noise he knew sounded ridiculous.  _ And I'm a big boy who doesn't need a handler, thank you.  _

Sam let out a half-laugh, then slapped a hand over his mouth like he could force the sound back inside. After a second, his hand dropped to reveal a small smile. “You sure about that? Because you seem pretty small. And I haven't been able to say that about anything since Chuck shrunk me.” 

_ Don't worry—I'm sure.  _ He made it to Sam's knee, impressed that the boy remained visibly relaxed. The grace-soul below the surface sent a very different message. Violet light swirled through the body, occasionally giving off bright white sparks. The storm-smell grew heavier.  _ And I won't shift right now—not without telling you first.  _

“Why, because you'll scare me?” Sam bravely scoffed. He rested a hand on the knee in front of Morpheus, and his fingers twitched like they wanted to touch.

Morpheus bumped his nose against them, encouraging the boy to interact. He was rewarded with fingertips lightly running over his head. They played with the long fur, shaping it into pointed tufts. 

_ Maybe. It made Gabriel step back when he first saw my other form. _

The fingers paused, then slowly resumed exploring. “That is hard to picture. I've seen him stand against Lucifer twice, and he barely flinched.”

_ Brothers have a way of making us too furious to fear. _ He turned his head and licked the boy's wrist. 

Sam's breath hitched and his pulse jumped, but he didn't pull away. “Tell me about it,” he said, glancing at his own brother. 

_ Also, I may have neglected to tell him I was shifting. _ Morpheus kept licking further up the thin arm. He heard a light giggle and got his front paws up on Sam's knee, slowly climbing. Another burst of laughter greeted him when he reached the inside of the elbow. Goosebumps bloomed across the boy's skin and Morpheus stopped to look up. The smile he found made him wag his whole body.

“So,” Sam said as he began petting in earnest, “Gabriel asked you to come here to be my friend and protect me? And you, what, just agreed?”

_ This is what I do—guide and protect children in need.  _ Morpheus cocked his head to the side.  _ Of course I agreed. _

Sam frowned, but there was no anger in it. “I'm not really a kid.”

Morpheus licked his elbow, eliciting a barely muffled squeal.  _ Everyone is a child to someone.  _

The sunlight was fading fast, taking any lingering warmth with it. Sam shivered, and Morpheus wondered why the pup only had on a t-shirt. Footsteps approached, and he twisted around to see Gabriel carrying a small sweater.

“Hey guys,” the archangel said with a tentative smile. “It's getting kinda cold out here. You want to join us by the fire?”

Sam took the sweater and shoved it over his head. “Yeah, the fire sounds good. Dean's probably about to explode.”

“That's putting it mildly,” Gabriel shuddered. “I've got Cassie occupying him with soulful stares for now.”

Sam snorted and rolled his eyes. “How ever did you manage that?” he asked in a mocking monotone. Using both hands, he gently set Morpheus on the ground. 

“Oh, you know.” Gabriel wriggled his eyebrows. “I put them within a half-mile radius of each other.”

“If he hears you, he's gonna stake you again. And when he does, you better not come crying to me because he ruined your favorite shirt,” Sam lectured as he got to his feet. 

Morpheus observed them, fascinated by the dynamics between the archangel and fledgling. They walked to where the others waited, sitting by the fire. Gabriel hadn't lied—the seraph and human's eyes were locked in an intense staring contest. The other two, however, had their gazes set on Morpheus. 

The other archangel stared at him in open curiosity, but the mother looked like she might cry. “Oh my God, Gabriel! Look at him,” she squealed, then shook her head and addressed Morpheus directly. “Look at you! The others said...but you are  _ not _ what I was picturing.” A look of horror crossed her face. “And you can totally understand me, can't you? I'm sorry, that was so rude! I just...can't even stop rambling because if I stop talking then I might pick you up and kiss you. And that's probably incredibly taboo and reason to smite me...”

“Mary,” Raphael rumbled calmly and laid a hand on her shoulder. His voice carried power.

"What, did everyone know about this except me?" Sam asked, looking at each of them.  All he got back were grins and nods.

Morpheus padded up to Mary and head-butted her hand. She immediately began petting him, laughing brightly when he rolled and let her reach his belly. “Oh, you'd disarm anyone with that move,” she told him with a wink. 

_ I like your mother, Sam.  _ Morpheus said, knowing all the angels could hear him.

“What?” Mary asked when the others smiled. 

Sam cleared his throat. “He says he likes you.”

“Really?” she gasped and looked down at him. “Well, I like you too. And I think you're perfect!”

Morpheus yipped and rolled to his feet. He gave her hand a quick lick in thanks and went to check out the other archangel. Raphael stared down at him, nearly expressionless except for the spark of amusement in his eyes.  _ You are the Healer-angel? _

“I am,” Raphael answered with a nod. “And you are one of Hecate's guardians.” 

It wasn't a question, so Morpheus didn't bother answering. Instead, he sniffed around the archangel. The scent of honeysuckle and pine and spices overwhelmed him, making him sneeze. The force of it knocked him over and he decided to pass on tasting the powerful being's vessel.

“So, when do we get to see him...you know...big?” Dean's gruff voice boomed over the fire. 

Morpheus glanced at him and saw the barely restrained aggression that filled the man's green eyes. Grinning, the canine turned to Sam.  _ Would you like to see a re-enactment of Gabriel's reaction? _

“Hey!” Gabriel objected.

Sam stared at him for a second. Then, his mouth twisted, and he bit his lip to keep it still. “Kinda,” he whispered nervously.

Morpheus jumped up and walked out into the yard a short distance.  _ Gabriel, do you mind standing with Sam? _

“Why?” Sam asked before Gabriel could answer, but the archangel was already moving to pick him up.

“Calm down, kiddo,” Gabriel whispered in Sam's ear as he placed the boy on his hip. “Trust me—you want to be up here when you meet him.”

“Meet him?” Sam whispered back furiously. “I thought I already met him!”

“Hey! What's going on!?” Dean got to his feet as the others began moving. 

Morpheus looked at Sam and barked to get the boy's attention.  _ Remember Sam—I am only changing size.  _

Sam frowned, but stayed silent as he waited.

Morpheus shook his body, drawing on the magic given to him by the Mother. He felt himself expand, reborn in a rush of energy that burst from every molecule in his body. It was over in a blink.

He stood tall and waited for everyone to take in the change. The brother was predictable with his instant yell. The seraph held him in place, although his blue eyes flared bright with grace in alarm. Mary grabbed on to Raphael, but it was to keep herself steady. Raphael remained impassive, and seemed more intrigued by his companions' reactions than Morpheus' new form.

And then there was Sam. His hands clenched Gabriel's jacket in a death grip, but he stared at Morpheus in amazement. Fear fluttered through the boy's grace—a thrill of excitement more than terror. 

Morpheus approached slowly, his eyes never leaving Sam.  _ Is this okay? _

Sam opened his mouth and closed his mouth several times before speaking. “You're never gonna fit in the car!” he croaked.

“He's not riding in Baby!” Dean shouted.

Morpheus gave his best wolfish grin.  _ Is your brother always a wild, frisky thing? _

Sam nodded.

_ Excellent. _ Morpheus chuckled as he came to a stop directly in front of Gabriel and Sam. Lowering his head, he nuzzled one of the tiny fists. He felt the muscles tighten in a spasm before gradually relaxing enough to let go of the cloth. 

Sam swallowed audibly, and reached his hand to touch the massive snout. Morpheus held still, letting the pup move at his own speed. The hand paused midair. “Do you like people petting you? I mean, since you're not...” Sam frowned. “You're not a pet. You're like a pagan demigod or warrior...hound? Is it rude?”

_ Rude? _ Morpheus asked, bewildered by the question. He understood hesitation rooted in nervousness or fear when dealing with a new charge. But Sam seemed wasn't showing the fear from earlier when he first heard Morpheus talk, and seemed genuinely concerned about propriety.  _ You are adorable, pup, _ he snorted.

Sam's frown deepened while Gabriel laughed. “I am not either of those things,” he stated firmly.

“Cas, what's he saying?” Dean's voice sounded strained. “What's he saying to you, Sammy?!” 

Sam turned to look at his brother who was red-faced and fighting the seraph's hold. “Dean!” the boy snapped. “I'm fine, okay? Chill before you hurt yourself, jerk.”

“What's he saying to you, Sammy?” Dean repeated, although he stopped pulling.

Sam blushed. “Nothing, Dean...”

“He called him an adorable pup!” Gabriel called over his shoulder.

“Traitor,” Sam muttered, yanking the archangel's wing. 

Gabriel stumbled back a step until Raphael's hand steadied him. “Oh, you brat!” the shorter archangel declared with a laugh. “No more eye-level privileges for you.” 

“Wait, what?!” Sam's eyes went wide and he tried to hold on tighter as Gabriel bent to put him down.

“Nope. Have fun, ankle-biter,” Gabriel said, peeling away Sam's hands and legs and depositing him onto a pile of pillows. 

Morpheus stared down at the disheveled boy.  _ Adorable, _ he said, nuzzling his hair. 

Sam batted at his head, clearly no longer concerned with rudeness. “Not. Adorable.” 

_ You keep telling yourself that. _ Morpheus licked Sam's cheek, dragging his tongue across the baby-soft hair. It elicited a muffled scream behind tightly pressed lips. He repeated the action a few times until the curls bunched together in damp clumps.  _ Now, I am going to go reassure your brother that I do not plan on eating you.  _

"Why? Because I don't taste good?"  Sam answered with a glower.

Morpheus looked at Dean and Castiel. The human no longer fought to get free, but his entire body radiated tension. He reminded the canine of a pack-sister from long ago—fiercely protective of the few she was close to and dangerous to any she considered a threat. He missed her terribly.

Castiel watched him with blazing blue eyes while whispering to the hunter, “Just stay calm, Dean. Gabriel wouldn't bring someone who meant us any harm. You know that.”

Morpheus nodded at the angel.  _ It is true. Thank you, Castiel.  _

He looked to the human again. Dean shrugged off Castiel's hands and squared his shoulders. His gaze held a challenge, but he swallowed repeatedly as sweat dripped down his temples. 

Morpheus' nose wrinkled at the sharp scent of gunpowder. It clung to the hunter like a burning cloud, tickling the canine's sinuses. He sneezed, loud and violent. 

Dean leapt backwards and collided with the unphased angel. “Whoa!” he screamed, hands flying up to pat at his face and chest. “What did he say, Cas?! Oh God...”

“Bless you,” Castiel said calmly, his eyes softening with humor. 

_ Ugh, gunpowder makes my nose itch, _ Morpheus complained, shaking his head to clear the sensation. 

“What?! Why would he say that?” Dean asked, throwing his hand toward Castiel blindly until he hit him.

“He didn't say it,” Castiel said with an eye-roll. He stepped out from behind the hunter to stand next to Morpheus. “I said 'bless you' because he sneezed. And he sneezed because gunpowder irritates his nasal passages.”

“He...he...what?” Dean froze mid-pat, but his words came faster. “He sneezed? You sneezed? You didn't, like, order my execution or curse my ancestors? You sure? Cas, is he sure?”

Castiel shot Dean a look that said 'shut up' in any language, then returned his attention to Morpheus. “It is an honor to meet you,” he said in a voice deeper than expected.

Morpheus liked the way this angel smelled. They were each unique, but this one was more subtle.  _ And I, in turn, an honored. I have never had the chance to work with angels. Gabriel was actually the first I'd ever met.  _

“I hope he made a better impression than this one,” he said, nodding at Dean.

“What?” Dean whispered in outrage. “You're supposed to be on my side, Cas. Remember?”

“I am literally by your side, Dean.” Castiel gave a long-suffering sigh. “Morpheus, may I introduce Dean Winchester. He has what I believe the kids refer to as 'zero chill.'” The angel made a strange gesture with both hands. Morpheus didn't recognize what it meant, but he heard the others laughing.

_ I have never met a pack like yours. _ Morpheus sniffed the angel's coat—it was saturated with the sweet smell of rain with tiny traces of the hunter's gunpowder.  _ Tell your human that I promise not to curse his bloodline, nor eat his brother. The pup is too stringy, and Dean smells terrible. _

Castiel's eyes filled with panic as they darted toward Gabriel, seeking advice. The archangels was too busy choking on laughter and avoiding Sam's kicks to answer. Surprisingly, Raphael joined them with a soft, rolling chuckle. 

“Someone care to elaborate?” Dean asked with forced civility. 

Morpheus head-butted the seraph in the chest.  _ Just tell him before he shoots me. _

Castiel cleared his throat. “He says that he promises not to curse your family or eat Sam.” 

“Oh, well,” Dean nodded comically, rubbing his sweaty palms against his jeans. “Good. That's good. Thanks, I think.”

_ Thank you, Castiel. Even though you left out the best part. _

Castiel jumped when Morpheus suddenly licked his forehead. “You are welcome.”

Morpheus heard an odd noise, and turned to see Sam yawning. He took three strides and flopped next to the boy. In the firelight, he saw the dark circles framing hazel eyes.  _ When did you last sleep, pup? _

“Not a pup,” Sam mumbled, blinking slowly.

_ When did you last sleep? _ Morpheus repeated. 

“I slept all night last night,” he answered. His voice was exhausted, and twinged with frustration. 

Morpheus looked at Gabriel for confirmation. The archangel nodded. “True, but your sleep has been interrupted a lot lately, and you also had an extreme amount of healing done a couple of days ago.”

_ Come on, _ he said, nudging Sam to his feet.  _ You can show me your home in the morning. _

“But we don't even have a bed or anything for you.” Sam scrubbed at his eyes with the back of one hand and leaned against the canine's side. “Where will you sleep?”

Morpheus huffed a laugh.  _ Wherever I want, _ he said honestly. He always slept near the children he protected, and he wasn't planning on changing that routine now.  _ Would you like one of us to carry you? _

Sam's back straightened instantly, and he pushed away from Morpheus. “No, thank you!” He blushed and trudged toward the house.

Morpheus followed, not waiting on the others. He heard Castiel relay their conversation to the hunter, and Dean sputter his objection to dogs in beds. Gabriel's steps caught up with them. 

“Man, you gotta sneeze on Dean more often. That shit's never gonna get old!” The archangel moved to walk on Sam's other side, keeping the boy between them. 

_ I will keep that in mind. _ Morpheus grinned, his tongue lolling out of his mouth.  _ If he always smells like he's rolled in gunpowder, then it won't be hard.  _

They entered the home and Morpheus shivered. If the outside yard was saturated in magic, then this was the pool from which it came. He would have to make time to inspect every nook and cranny—he already sensed numerous dangers and cursed objects.

Gabriel walked down the steps in front of Sam. The boy was asleep on his feet, but refused to be carried. Morpheus descended the stairs, careful to not catch a claw on the odd grate floor. He heard quiet bickering as Dean and Castiel came through the door, Mary and Raphael right behind.

They led him to a large bedroom with multiple beds and seating. Everyone entered together, quickly filling the room. Morpheus was surprised—he hadn't realized that humans and angels slept like a pack. 

The humans left to change into sleep clothes, and Castiel went to help Sam do the same. Gabriel and Raphael began to arrange the bedding. Morpheus shifted back down to his smaller size and ran to explore as much of the room as possible before everyone returned. 

“How are you doing, Morpheus?” Gabriel asked softly. “Everything okay so far?”

Morpheus yipped from underneath a sofa.  _ I am enjoying myself. Your family is quite interesting.  _ He ran along the floorboards, covering the room's perimeter.  _ And I believe I can help Sam.  _

“You were very good with him,” Raphael said. “He does not easily trust.”

_ I've noticed. But that's okay—I can out-stubborn any child. I have over two thousand years' experience doing just that. _

“I fear you'll need every second of that experience,” the Healer-angel mused. 

One-by-one, the others returned. Dean jumped onto the large bed in the middle of the room. Mary came in carrying a book and sat on the sofa. Ten minutes later, Sam shuffled in with Castiel closely following. 

Sam climbed up onto the bed beside his brother, scooting into the center to leave room for a third. Castiel stood awkwardly until the boy patted the empty space. Instead of laying down, the angel kicked off his shoes and sat against the headboard. Raphael settled into a chair next to Mary, content to quietly meditate. 

Before laying down, Sam looked around the room until his eyes settled on Morpheus by the door. “Where will you sleep?” he asked. 

Morpheus sprinted and jumped, easily clearing the edge of the mattress. He took pleasure in the way Sam and Castiel's mouths both dropped open. Most people didn't think he was capable of much in this form and it was always a pleasure to correct that perception.

“Oh, hells no!” Dean propped himself up on an elbow and scowled at him. 

Morpheus deliberately pranced closer to Sam and sat by his legs, never taking his eyes off Dean.

“No,” Dean insisted, and started to sit up.

Morpheus bared his teeth and growled, a high trilling sound.  _ Somebody please explain to Dean that I can sleep on this bed in this form, or I can shift. Those are his options. _

Instead, Sam punched his brother in the shoulder. “Quit being a cranky old guy, asshole. Lay down and go to sleep.” 

Dean stared at his brother. Morpheus watched, fascinated, as an entire silent conversation seemed to play out between them. Eventually, Dean just nodded and buried his face in the pillow with a groan. 

Sam gave Morpheus a shy smile and lightly scratched behind his ears. Morpheus licked the fingers and waited for the pup to lay down. Only then did he curl up in the crook of Sam's knees. He drifted to sleep listening to the angels whispering in their silent way to one another. Just before his consciousness slipped away, he sent a prayer of gratitude to his Mother for sending him on this new path. And then, he dreamed of adventures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well folks, what did you think?   
> TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS...I WANTS THEM PRECIOUS!!!
> 
> This was the last chapter for "After the Storm." I can't believe how long this story ended up!!   
> I've got SOOO many things lined up next--this series is no where near finished.   
> Anyone wanna know what's going on in Heaven these days? ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Come be my friend on Tumblr @theriverscribe <3  
> Comments feed my soul!!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Family Matters](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11266191) by [MoonFire1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonFire1/pseuds/MoonFire1)
  * [The Drawing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11486592) by [nathyfaith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nathyfaith/pseuds/nathyfaith)




End file.
